


The Waking Dream

by Rap541



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:39:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rap541/pseuds/Rap541
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doesn't Downton Abbey simply beg for vampires?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Isobel Crawley's Secret Cellar

**Author's Note:**

> So this comes from a lot of places. First, I have to thank Rachel Smith Cobleigh, who assures me she's not a serial killer or presidential assassin, for providing the spark for this idea by commenting on how Matthew Crawley looked like Bela Lugosi in a particular photo. Then I have to thank whoever did the really weird photoshoot of Mary and Matthew where it's like they were all dressed darkly and it looks like this weird gothic vampire wedding shoot.
> 
> So yeah, vampires. It's Halloween. Please don't nitpick the vampire stuff. Yes, I will be using Twilight, and Dracula, and Lost Boys concepts with some True Blood maybe. I like retractable fangs, I like "you need to kill the head vampire" and I like the bling of sparkles.

It started with an innocent question from her son, a question she had feared but knew would eventually come.

“Mama,” George said as she tucked him into his bed, “why doesn’t Papa live here?”

It broke her heart to hear her three and half year old son ask it, but she had always told herself it was best that she never lie to him. “George, your father loved you a great deal but he died and went to heaven the day you were born. That’s why Papa doesn’t live here.”

George blinked sleepily. “Is heaven really Grandma Isobel’s cellar? I don’t mind it when I say hello to Papa but I wouldn’t want to stay there forever. Even Papa doesn’t.”

“What… what do you mean, George?” Mary felt a certain odd disquiet come over her. George was in many ways built in his father’s image, but he was more like her when it came to fanciful things. She suspected it would have been different if Matthew had lived. Matthew had liked fanciful tales, the library still had his silly science fiction books and speculative novels, but George was built more like her. He wasn’t prone to making up stories.

“Papa comes here at night,” the little boy said. “He likes to go to your room and watch you sleep. But he says I have to stay in bed.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to get up out of bed in the middle of the night, are you?” It eased her mind, that whatever he was imagining, it was probably just his longing for a father to be there for him.

“No…” George murmured, already close to sleep, “But Papa misses you. Sometimes he cries when he watches you. Are you mad at Papa? Is that why he has to hide at Grandma’s?”

“George, your papa doesn’t live with Grandma Isobel, he died. He doesn’t come to visit at night. You’re imagining things.” She didn’t want to be cruel, because it was bedtime and not the time to argue with a three year old. “You must have been dreaming. Your papa isn’t hiding in Grandma Isobel’s cellar.”

“He has lots of books there…Sometimes he reads me stories…” And then George fell asleep, leaving her feeling oddly out of sorts. The sad truth was that she had never really talked to George about his father. He was such a little boy and while the time would come where she told him what Matthew was like, she mostly kept it to how Matthew had loved him. Matthew’s habits and hobbies had never been talked about, and yet George invoked one of her most favorite images of Matthew, him sitting in an armchair, engrossed by a book and then reading to her the choicest bits. How did he know that, she wondered. How could George possibly know that?

~*~

He looked up at the sound of the door opening and then looked at the clock. It was 11pm, late but not unreasonable. Matthew set down his book. “How was your evening, Mother?”

“Awkward and unpleasant,” Isobel said as she walked down the wooden stairs into the cellar. She looked at him worriedly. “Did you get…. Something to eat? While I was gone?”

He nodded. “I went out and came back quite quickly actually.” He didn’t belabor it. She didn’t like knowing the details. “What was awkward and unpleasant? Was Cousin Violet rude about you and Lord Merton again?” He smiled as she took a seat on the small sofa and he resumed his spot in the armchair.

“Actually, it was Lord Merton’s sons who were quite rude. They’re quite opposed to my marrying their father.” She sighed. “Larry frankly was quite dreadful. And… I decided I couldn’t be a part of tearing apart their family. I can’t marry Lord Merton, not if it drives a wedge between him and his sons.”

“His sons are dreadful little warts,” Matthew said angrily, “and they’re grown men who should understand that their father has the right to be happy. I think you should reconsider. You have the right to be happy as well, Mother.”

She looked at him, smiling sadly. “And if I marry Lord Merton, where would you go? That’s a consideration as well. We still have this… problem to solve.”

“It shouldn’t be a consideration. It’s my problem.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Mother, you needn’t worry about me. It’s not like… right after the accident. I can find someplace else to live.” He stood up and began to pace around the cellar. “I should have done that anyway. It’s not fair to you. I can go to Scotland, to Father’s old hunting cabin. I can change my name, it’s foggy there most of the time so I can get out and about more. It won’t be difficult. You deserve to have a life, Mother.”

“And if you go to Scotland, what about your family?” Isobel asked.

Matthew shrugged. “They don’t see me now, do they? I’m not doing any real good here. I’m making you miserable, and myself miserable, and for what? So I can occasionally glimpse the life I’ve lost? So you and I can pretend that we’ll fix this and everything will return to what it was? That’s a joke, Mother. Soon enough Mary will remarry, and George is getting old enough to start to really talk and he’s going to ask questions and…” He choked up from the emotion. “I was kidding myself, Mother, that I could… be this way and still watch over my family. And you’re lying to yourself that I can saved.” He sighed. “I’m an abomination, I can’t keep denying it. Neither should you. I should go. You need to be able to move on.”

“I’ve told you not to talk that way,” his mother said firmly. “You’re not an abomination, you’re just… not well…”

“Mother… My heart doesn’t beat. I don’t have a pulse. You all buried me in a casket that I had to dig out of and then I killed a dog and drank its blood. I went out tonight and caught a deer with my bare hands and drank its blood. That’s not normal, Mother. That’s disturbing. I’m disturbing.” He hated shouting at her but it had been three years and they were no closer to a solution than the night he crawled out of the grave with an insatiable thirst, only to find his mother waiting there. With a dog. She had planned well. Of course she had Father’s journals and her own experience to know what best to do. “We’re never going to find who bit me, and so much time has passed, it’s a meaningless victory if we do.”

“It’s not a meaningless victory. There’s a cure and we can find it. “She stood up. “Your father saved me from this fate. I will save you, Matthew.”

He considered a protest and then stopped himself. His mother had never given up hope that the evil creature that had bitten him moments before he had died could be found. With three years gone in a dreadful limbo of not life and not death, he was losing hope. “Mother, you know I’ve read his journals. I know he saved you from this fate worse than death by killing the vampire that bit you. I know he documented other cases where that worked because the victim never drank human blood… but all of those cases were with victims who were turned back within a month. It’s been three years and we’re no closer to finding that vampire when we started. You need to be realistic. Even I did figure out who it is that’s killing woman in York and Manchester by draining them of blood, it might not be the vampire who turned me. Too much time may have passed, it may not work.”

“It will work, Matthew,” Isobel said sternly. “There’s no reason it wouldn’t. You’re not trapped in this unless you drink human blood. We’re not giving up.”

“And if it does work, then what?” he asked. “Do you really think our lives will go back to normal? Say I’m cured tomorrow… do you really think I can simply return to Downton and take up my old life with Mary? Do you think she wouldn’t be enraged that we kept this a secret? She’ll feel utterly betrayed, Mother.”

“First,” Isobel said carefully, “When the day comes when you are well, and Mary finds out, I will take every ounce of blame for not telling her. It was my decision, and it is my fault. Second,” and she seemed to deflate, “I can’t deny that things… likely won’t work out with you resuming your life at Downton. I’m tired, I don’t want to talk about this tonight when I am tired. I assume you have something clever to present, but it can wait until the morning.”

“I might go out later,” he said after a moment.

“I know,” She began to walk up the stairs. “I can’t stop you from torturing yourself.”

“Yet you’re angry that I’m acknowledging my life with Mary can’t be regained,” he shot back.

She stopped on the stairs. “I’m angry that you’re losing hope.”

And for that he had no answer. Because part of the reality they needed to discuss was that she wasn’t getting any younger and he needed her help in establishing a new identity somewhere else before she died. Then he shuddered at just how cold and calculating he had gotten in the last three years.

~*~

She awoke with a start, with the odd sense that someone had been in the room. You’re being ridiculous, she told herself as she sat up in bed, the moonlight so bright across the bedding that she could almost read to it. There was no one in the room. Yet, every sense in her body told her someone had been there. She sniffed the air, and was almost overwhelmed. The scent of Matthew’s cologne brought tears to her eyes, but she couldn’t figure out where it had come from. She had been so lost after Matthew had died, it was as if she looked up one day and most of Matthew’s things were gone. Anna told her later that Isobel, and her grandmother had packed away his things, and donated his clothes to charity. His bathroom things, his razor, his cologne, had been among the missing.

And yet it wasn’t just his cologne, it was his scent as a man that lingered. Like he had been there, next to the bed. She looked at the armchair he so often sat in, reading a book in his pajamas and robe while he waited for her to come to bed. There was a book there, a book she knew hadn’t been there when she had gone to sleep because she had just finished a novel the day before and hadn’t picked up anything new.

She slid out of bed and went to the armchair. The book was The Last Man, by Shelley. She knew, even before she opened the book and looked at the book plate, whose book it was. Matthew liked Mary Shelley, he liked her books and was oddly fascinated by what he called the one lengthy house party he wished he’d been able to attend. The lengthy house party led to the book Frankenstein. The Last Man had been a rarity for him, a book he hadn’t been able to find until just before he died. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

She picked it up and sat down on the edge of the bed. Why are you here, she asked herself. Shelley wasn’t her taste at all, and it certainly wasn’t her mother’s or her father’s. Matthew’s additions to the library hadn’t been removed with his clothes, but she knew no one had touched the books. Why does the room smell of Matthew, why is a book Matthew read sitting on the end table by his chair?

_Papa comes here at night. He likes to go to your room and watch you sleep._ George was a tiny little boy but his words had been so innocent. That’s silly, she told herself. Your dead husband doesn’t come to you in the middle of the night to watch you sleep and read his books. He can’t do that because he’s dead. He’s dead, dead and gone, and there’s no point in being silly about it now. She was firm with herself, she was always firm with herself about the grief. She had allowed herself to grieve, and then she had made herself firmly close the door. Matthew was gone. It was no one’s fault, there was no one to blame, and he wouldn’t have wanted her to spend her life mourning. But her heart skipped a beat as she looked at the armchair in the moon light and saw blond hairs on the chair that she knew hadn’t been there the day before.


	2. Chapter 2 - Amateur Investigator Mary Crawley

"They still haven't caught that chap in York," Robert set down the newspaper he had been reading. "I don't want any of you girls roaming about York unescorted, is that understood?" Rose made a show of protesting, which wasn't a surprise, but Mary tuned her out.

"What chap in York, Papa?" she asked.

"Oh just some fellow bothering women," her father said, his expression suddenly flush.

"If by bothering, you mean murdering," Rose said, rising to the bait. She turned to Mary. "Haven’t you been reading the papers? It's quite exciting."

"It's all so sordid," Edith added. "The killer stalks young women and kills them by draining their blood. Whoever it is doesn't care about social class at all. The victims range from prostitutes to serving maids to young ladies getting ready for their season. But mostly prostitutes.”

"I'm sorry, when did murdered prostitutes in York become our standard breakfast conversation?" Robert asked, glaring to make the point that the conversation needed to end. Then he turned to Mary. "Do you have any plans today, Mary?”

“I thought I would walk into town and see Cousin Isobel.” She didn’t know why she said it except that she did want to talk to Isobel about what George had said. Not about how he thought Matthew was in the cellar, that was silly, but she did find it odd that George even talked about going into the cellar, and she didn’t want her son playing in some dank cellar. I’m not being silly or sentimental, she told herself. This isn’t about the book. What George said by itself was odd and needed to be looked into.

“Well, tell her to be careful if she goes into York,” her father huffed. “Her charity work is admirable but she keeps the worst sort of company.”

Mary bit her tongue at mentioning how he was raising the specter of prostitution at the breakfast table yet again. Sometimes it wasn’t worth it to mention such things.

~*~

She knocked on the door and waited. Then she knocked again. There was still no answer and then it dawned on her that Isobel wasn’t home. It still puzzled her and then she remembered that in the three years since Matthew’s death, Isobel had gotten rid of her servants. Well, she allowed, there was still a maid but the maid didn’t live in the house and only came twice a week, Isobel had gotten rid of her cook, and she had certainly never needed a butler. Odd that I never really thought about that, she considered as she stared at the door, Isobel rarely had guests over anymore. When she wanted to see George, she usually came to the Abbey and took him to wherever she liked. It struck her suddenly that she hadn’t actually been inside Crawley House in years.

She opened the door. A shiver ran through her as she remembered the last time she waltzed into Crawley House unannounced and uninvited. That was the day I met Matthew, she thought sadly, with him complaining that the earl’s daughters would be thrown at him. She put the memory aside, reminding herself yet again that he was gone. It wasn’t why she was there, although she wasn’t really sure why she was walking through the house if Isobel wasn’t there to see.

For a large home with only an intermittent maid, the place was as neat as could be. The only real oddity was that the curtains were drawn in most of the back rooms. Then again, Mary mused, Cousin Isobel is one woman and for one woman this is a large home. She must not use all the rooms.

In the kitchen she found her target and another oddity. She wasn’t really sure why she wanted to examine Isobel’s cellar, she knew without a doubt that her husband wasn’t alive and hiding in his mother’s cellar. She just… wanted to be sure that something untoward wasn’t happening to George. The oddity was that there was a light switch by the door. Crawley House was hooked to the generator, Isobel and Matthew had been delighted to give up oil lamps. But there was little reason to put electric lights in the cellar. She flipped the switch and opened the door.

The stairs creaked and she thought she heard something rustle but when she stopped to listen, it was quiet. I startled a rat, she thought, but that concern left her as she took in the room in the cellar. Bookshelves lined the walls. There was an armchair and a small sofa, with an electric lamp on an end table. On the table was a book, but when she opened it, she realized it was a handwritten journal in handwriting that looked familiar but only just so. There was a desk against the far wall, with newspaper clippings taped to the wall. In dawning horror she realized the clippings were of murders, including the recent ones in York. “What in the name of God is going on…” she whispered. She looked down at the desk. There was a framed photograph of her and George there. She picked it up to look at, and saw a reflection in the glass that took her breath away. She dropped it and spun around. “Matthew?”

It was him, she was sure of it. Looking far too pale, and oddly tense, her dead husband was standing five feet away from her. “Mary…Mary, you’re not here.”

The words took a moment to register on her. “I’m not here?”

He nodded. “You’re not here. You’re not seeing me. I’m not here. You’re going to walk up the stairs and go back to the Abbey and take a nap. And when you wake up, you’ll just recall having an odd dream about me. That’s all.”

It was maddening, because she had an overwhelming urge to do just that. To turn on her heels, march up the stairs and walk back to her home and take to her bed. Then her sheer rage shook it off. “Go home? Take a nap? For god’s sake Matthew, what kind of madness is this?”

He held up his hand as if to stave off her questions. “It is madness, Mary. The best thing you can do is go home and forget this.”

It hit her like a soothing blanket that he was right, that it was crazy to think her husband was alive and hiding from her. She shook it off again. “No! You have to explain this… this insanity!” She looked around the room, realizing in an instant just where Isobel had taken all of Matthew’s things. “Why did you fake your own death? Why are you here, in the cellar of Crawley House?” Because as betrayed as she felt about her beloved husband apparently wanting out of his marriage so badly that he went to the insane lengths of staging a horrible car accident… only to move into the not terribly pleasant cellar of Crawley House, it made utterly no sense. It he was going to be a cad and leave her, why would he end up less than a mile away when running off to America or Australia was possible?

For a wonder, he actually smiled. “I didn’t fake my own death, Mary.”

“Then explain how you’re standing here!” she shouted. “I *buried* you! Do you know how many times I cried over your grave?” Overhead, she heard the front door open and the clatter of footsteps on the floor. She made a dash for the stairwell but Matthew was on her in an instant, with an eerie speed and strength. In seconds he had her in a vise like grip, holding her from behind, his left hand over her mouth. “Listen to me very carefully,” he whispered into her ear. “We both have to be very quiet.”

She screamed into his hand and tried to struggle but he had a strength she couldn’t have imagined and it amounted to her flailing a little. She heard the footsteps enter the kitchen and Isobel cheerfully calling that it would just take a moment to get the tea ready. Matthew pulled her back from the stairwell as the cellar door creaked and Isobel came down the stairwell. “I told you not to leave the door open…” she said softly, obviously not intending her guest to hear. Isobel’s eyes widened in shock as she took in the scene. “Matthew, what in god’s name have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Matthew hissed at her. “She came here by herself. I didn’t bring her here. I tried to send her away and it didn’t work…”

“Your fangs… they’re showing…” Isobel seemed to take a deep breath. “Calm down. Do the breathing exercises I showed you. I will get rid of Violet as quickly as I can. You’ve eaten already so you can control yourself. Keep her quiet.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I can hold her like this and keep control…” Matthew said. Mary took that as a good reason to try struggling out of his arms. It didn’t work.

Isobel shook her head. “Then choke her out. Tie her up in the chair and gag her, but keep her quiet. And so help me God Matthew, if you harm her in any way, I will kill you myself.”

“If it ever came to that, Mother, I would expect nothing less,” Matthew whispered.

Have they both gone mad, Mary thought wildly. She tried to twist out of his grasp but his arm pressed up against her throat and the darkness took her.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3 - The Awkwardness After Tea

She jerked awake, realizing suddenly that she was still in the cellar of Crawley House. She was tied to a chair, firmly bound, and a gag was in her mouth. She fought the panic down and tried looking around. I’m in the desk chair, she thought as she took in the scene. She was in the desk chair, facing the wall that was covered with newspaper clippings. The clippings were definitely about the women in York and some similar cases in Liverpool. Not just clippings, she realized, there were maps and notes in both Matthew’s and Isobel’s handwriting. Whatever else they had been up to, they were clearly taking a keen interest in murdered prostitutes. She couldn’t turn or shift the chair, and she couldn’t speak, so for what seemed like an hour at least, she read the articles and listened for any indication that Matthew was even there. She suspected he was there, staring at her back, and it only infuriated her more.

She could hear the sudden resumption of feet on the floor above. I’ve never wanted a tea to end the way I want this one to end, she thought darkly. Finally she heard the cellar door open and Isobel coming down the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Isobel said worriedly, “I could hardly toss Violet out on her ear after inviting her.” There was a pause. “Matthew, why is she facing the wall? Did you hurt her?”

That again, Mary realized. If there was something that struck her as bizarre, and there were many things striking her that way, it was Isobel’s genuine fear. Which made no sense. Matthew wasn’t harmless, the war had proven that, but he would no more hurt a woman than he would a child. If anything, Isobel should have been worried that she was going to tear Matthew limb from limb.

“I didn’t hurt her, Mother.” Matthew, sounding nervous and oddly excited. “I couldn’t sit here and stare at her body… not after touching her.”

“Are you all right now?”

“I’ll need to go out later. It’s overcast today, it shouldn’t be a problem. This is a problem that has to be dealt with right now.”

She had no doubt he was pointing at her.

“Just… leave if you need to. My guess is that this will take some time.” Suddenly the chair was spun around and she was looking into the eyes of her mother-in-law. Matthew was behind her, his arms crossed, looking down. Both of them looked horrified and sick. Isobel looked at her intently. “Mary, I am very sorry that you’ve found out that I’ve been telling a terrible lie, and I am sure you have hundreds of questions but right now, I need you to agree to not start screaming if I take the gag out of your mouth. Can you do that?”

Mary nodded. She had no choice but to nod. She needed answers. As soon as Isobel removed the gag, she spit out her first question. “What kind of sick game are the two of you playing?”

“Sick game?” Isobel repeated, genuinely puzzled.

“She thinks I faked my death, Mother.” Matthew took a step closer, his arms still crossed. “But I didn’t.”

“Then how are you here, alive?” she demanded.

He smiled wryly. “And there lies the problem, Mary. I’m not alive.”

They had both gone stark raving mad, Mary decided. “Are you claiming to be a ghost? Because I assure you, you seem quite solid, not a ghostly specter at all. And frankly you were solid and firm seeming when you grabbed me and choked me!”

“That’s a fair point,” Matthew said, “but do you remember my being that strong before? And if you think about it, I didn’t feel warm at all, did I?”

That halted her. It was true. He’d been unnaturally strong and as much as it had felt right, being held in his arms, he had felt oddly chilling, as if he’d been outside too long on a cold night. “What are you trying to say? What, that you’re a vampire?”

He looked at her and then at his mother. “And you thought this would be hard, Mother. And yet Mary has grasped it in an instant.”

~*~

She didn’t like it when he took that tone, that arrogant, clever tone. It reminded her that the more time that passed, the more likely it was that he would succumb to the sickness. It had occurred to her more than once that she was keeping a keg of dynamite in her cellar. She had half expected to find Mary dead in the basement. Dead or worse. As the time had dragged on, Matthew’s self-control in resisting had become a worry. If he did fully turn, she suspected he would be the rarity that kept the sickness from being burned out. It was a rare vampire that didn’t go completely mad within a year of taking their first victim. That was why she resisted his suggestion that he leave. Reginald had retired from the business when Matthew was born but Isobel still knew a few hunters or their children. If she died unexpectedly, letters would be sent, and Matthew would be put to rest

Unless Mary joined the fight. Isobel wouldn’t have willingly approached her daughter in law, Mary was too much like Violet, opinionated and prone to not listening to wiser heads, but she was there, in the cellar, tied up. But Mary was also furious, and with reason, so the most important thing was to convince the woman to keep her mouth shut. She gave Matthew a dark warning look. “Matthew, you’re really not helping.” She turned her attention back to Mary, who was glaring at them both and struggling against the rope Matthew had used to tie her up. “He’s also not being accurate.”

“Well, of course he’s not being accurate! Vampires and ghosts aren’t real.” Mary looked at them both, her anger plain on her face. There was, however, also some genuine curiosity in her expression. “Look, whatever the two of you have done, I’m willing to listen to a reasonable explanation on why Matthew is here, alive, and why he’s apparently been hiding in the cellar for years.” She hesitated. “What is going on?”

Isobel decided to be blunt. “The day George was born, when Matthew had the accident, he was bitten by a vampire while he was bleeding on the roadside. When I… was shown Matthew’s body, I saw the marks on his throat and realized what had been done to him. So I made sure to be near the grave when he rose.”

“Right….” Mary said. She turned her attention to Matthew. “So you rose from your casket and didn’t leap upon your mother and feast on her blood because why? Familial love?”

“No,” Matthew crossed his arms. “She brought a dog. I didn’t even know what I was doing until I’d drunk most of its blood. If she hadn’t brought the dog, I would have killed her. As it was, I was barely able to make to the vicar’s stable, where I killed his horse and drank its blood. Then, and only then, were Mother and I able to have a semi-rational discussion about I went from being in the car to digging my way out of a grave.”

“How unpleasantly vile,” Mary intoned. “And so you’ve been what… killing prostitutes and drinking their blood?” She looked at Isobel. “And here we all thought you were doing charitable work with the ladies of the night. Instead you’re feeding them to your son?”

“What?” Isobel couldn’t help it, she was shocked.

Matthew chuckled. In that tone she didn’t like, he said, “Come now Mother, look at it from her point of view. We’ve just told her I’m a vampire and she’s spent the last hour staring at our research into murdered whores. Don’t blame her for making the obvious leap.” His eyes narrowed. “After all, clearly you thought I’d brought her here to kill her. Don’t fault her for making the same assumption you did.” He turned his attention to Mary. “And Mother is correct in that I am not being accurate. I’ve never drunk human blood. Therefore I am a half vampire. If the vampire that bit me is killed, then I would revert back to being human.” He gestured to the wall behind her, which held the newspaper clippings. “We think the person who is killing women in York could be the vampire that turned me.”

“And how do you know that? That you would… change back if the vampire that bit you is killed?” Mary asked.

“Because.” Isobel said carefully, “When I was twenty, I was bitten and turned by a vampire, and Reginald killed the man and I turned back because I had never taken a human victim. Reginald was a doctor and a vampire hunter.”

Mary considered that for a long moment. “Are either of you going to try to tell the truth?”

“We are telling the truth,” Isobel said. She was beginning to feel desperate. She turned to Matthew. “Can’t you mesmerize her?”

“I already tried and it failed, Mother.” Matthew shrugged tiredly. “Mary, what would you need to see to believe us? Would you like to take my nonexistent pulse?” He held out his arm but Isobel waved it away.

“It’s not wise for you to touch her. You know that.” She only let him hold George in her presence and only if he’d already fed himself thoroughly.

“Let me see your fangs,” Mary said suddenly. She looked harshly at Isobel. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t so shocked that I didn’t catch that you mentioned his fangs earlier. But all throughout this charming conversation, I haven’t seen any fangs. Where are they?”

“They retract unless I am feeding.” Matthew sighed and then looked at Isobel. “However, if that’s what it would take…”

“It’s not a good idea,” Isobel warned. At the same time, she didn’t know what else would or could convince Mary. “Back up. Towards the stairs.” He did so, and she discreetly let her hand rest on the pair of scissors on the desk. Matthew had excellent control but that control was already being tested. She silently prayed she wasn’t going to prove to Mary that Matthew was a vampire by needing to drive a pair of scissors into his heart. “Go ahead. Show her.”

He smiled, letting his fangs show. It always surprised her, how much of a chill it gave her, because he otherwise looked like himself. His eyes didn’t glow, he didn’t take on a demonic appearance. Somehow that just made it worse, her gentle little boy cursed.

Mary gasped. “Oh god…” She shook it off. “I believe you. Stop it.”

Matthew nodded but didn’t retract his fangs. He started up the stairwell. “You’ll have to finish this, Mother. I have to go. I’ll be careful.”

She didn’t set the scissors down until she heard the backdoor open and close. Then she looked at Mary. “I’d like to untie you so we can go upstairs and have a cup of tea and perhaps talk calmly about this. Do you think you can manage that?”

Mary let out a shuddering breath. “I think a cup of tea would be… quite nice, right now.” She rubbed her hands together once the ropes were off. “I do have a question though…”

“I assumed you had several,” Isobel said as she helped Mary up.

“Yes, frankly I have a number of questions. But…” Mary looked at her quizzically. “It’s what… one in the afternoon? How can Matthew go outside in the daylight? If he’s a vampire? Won’t he… burn up?”

“Mary, not everything you’ve read in books is true.”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4 - Matthew's Request

She walked along the dimly lit road, wondering what she was going to do with her new knowledge and why she had chosen to walk home from the village on a wet, rainy afternoon. Stop it, she told herself as the rain began to drizzle down, you are walking home after the most shocking day you’ve had in three years because the idea of trying to make small talk with Tom seems impossible. The quicker she was home, the sooner she was seated at the dining table, not able to say a word as everyone prattled on about the pigs and the crops and whatever silly antics Rose had gotten up to, and she needed some time with her thoughts.

Matthew was a vampire. He wasn’t alive in any normal sense. Isobel had been quite thorough on that point. Vampirism was a sickness spread through bites. Even if his injuries in the car crash had been minor, the bite still would have turned him, just more slowly. And he wasn’t fully turned, despite the retracting fangs, eerie strength and lack of a pulse. Isobel was firm on the point and described her own horrific experiences as a young woman, and how she was saved. She had even lent Mary her husband’s journals that he kept on the topic. Dr. Reginald Crawley, along with being a doctor, had been a vampire hunter. Matthew had never drunk human blood, which meant there was still hope. Isobel had explained that clearly, that there was hope, that they believed the fellow murdering prostitutes in York was a vampire and currently the only active vampire in England, which meant it was the likely candidate for having attacked Matthew. The older woman had been intensely apologetic about keeping the terrible secret, but Mary had to concede that there was really no way to have that discussion without it being horrifying. But…

She had never seen Isobel so unsettled. She had never heard Matthew be so… bluntly dismissive and disrespectful of his own mother. Isobel and Matthew had always had a very loving relationship. One thing that had worried her when they married was that Isobel would resent her for taking Matthew away from her. Isobel had been genuinely afraid of Matthew, she realized that as she walked down the wet road. Isobel had been genuinely worried that Matthew had hurt her. And Matthew… Matthew had been oddly cold in manner. It was as if the two of them were circling each other like wolves getting ready to fight, to fight over her if she had read the room right. Isobel wanted to enlist her in finding the creature that had changed Matthew but had also warned her of how dangerous it was and given her the journals to read so she could make an informed decision.

An informed decision on whether she wanted to help save her husband from being an undead blood drinking vampire. She wanted to laugh, to pretend it was just some terrible story that Rose brought up at the breakfast table. There was no way she could face her family without having some time to think.

And suddenly an arm encircled hers. “The clouds are about to burst open,” Matthew said, effortlessly despite how she had the sense he had dashed to be at her side. “And we need to talk. Without Mother presiding. Come with me.” He pulled her towards the old parish church that had been abandoned when her grandmother was young.

She shook off his hand and stopped. “What if I say no?”

He smiled slightly. “Then your pretty dress will get soaked along with being rumpled.” He cocked his head. “I respect it if you’re afraid. You should be. But Mother probably didn’t mention some unpleasant truths about the situation, and we should discuss those truths. I’m sure Mother wants to recruit you to the cause.”

“Don’t you?”

“No. That’s why we need to talk.” He stepped backwards towards the church. “A car is coming. I can’t be seen on the road. Join me or don’t.” Matthew turned and trotted into the church. She didn’t hear a car, but she didn’t disbelieve him either.

She had been in the old parish church before. It was far enough away from the abbey that it had been an adventure to walk to when she was little, but not so far that it was hard for Carson to find her. There was still a wooden cross on the pulpit and Matthew was seated in the front pew, his hat off. He looked for all the world like he was alive, if pale. There was even a ruddiness to his cheeks, as if the cold air had brought some color to his face. “You came.”

Mary sat down next to him. “How could I not?” She looked at the pulpit and then at him. “I thought… vampires couldn’t look upon a cross or go into a church. Or walk around in daylight… but your mother said a number of things aren’t true.”

“Obviously I can look upon a cross without catching fire. Bright sunlight is a problem but only because it reveals me. If everyone wasn’t aware I died, I could live here quite easily as a somewhat reclusive bachelor. I can see my reflection in mirrors. I don’t particularly like the scent of garlic, but then I never did.” Then he fell silent. The rain suddenly crashed down on the creaky roof over their heads.

“Are we going to talk,” she asked, “or are you going to brood like a petulant child?” She didn’t know why she was curt, except that while it was a monstrous thing that had happened, it was a monstrous thing that she had every right to know about and instead she had… spent three years living a lie. Isobel said it had been her decision, that if blame was to be placed that the blame should fall squarely on her, but Mary had her doubts.

Matthew turned to look at her. He looked both sickened and angry. “Mary… Today is the first time in three years that I have spoken to someone other than my mother. I was never very good with confrontation when I was alive. Perhaps you’ll grant me a small amount of grace?” He choked out a laugh. “Oh god, we’re actually talking. If you knew how often I played out this moment… and of course we’re arguing.”

Three years of no one but his mother, Mary realized, his mother who loved him and who no longer trusted him. Three years of hiding and tracking down a killer, and never being able to speak to anyone. As angry as she was, she decided to grant him the grace he was asking for. “Isobel says you can be saved. Why don’t you want me to help you? She said she turned back. Don’t you want to be alive again?”

“God, yes.” He looked away from her, down at his feet. “To get my life back… it is that thought that stays my hand whenever I am within arm’s reach of a human being. I want nothing more than to be alive and to be your husband and a father to George. But… those who hunt monsters risk becoming monsters themselves. I’m sure my mother didn’t mention to you the high mortality rates for vampire hunters, did she?”

She shook her head. “It didn’t come up.”

“Of course it didn’t. And the very first thing you need to consider is who do you want to raise George? Because there’s a reason my mother doesn’t have a lot of old friends and it’s because of her friends and my father’s friends died at the hands of the creatures they hunted.” Thunder shook the church. “Did she mention how every case of a half vampire turning back when its sire was killed happened to people who had only been turned for a month?”

“That also didn’t come up,” Mary said after a moment of thought. She was starting to see his not very subtle point. “You don’t think you can be saved.”

He stared at her, his eyes intense. “Mary… there’s always hope. I do believe that. But I also have utterly no idea who bit me and my mother and I have no way of tracking that vampire down.”

“This was something I didn’t understand,” Mary admitted. “If you know this killer is in York, why aren’t you in York?” Both Matthew and Isobel had seemed like better problem solvers than that.

He rolled his eyes at her. “How do I get to York, Mary? Take the train? After various people in town stopped screaming, I’d be burned at the stake or worse. It’s the same reason I can’t be out on the road. It hasn’t been so long that people wouldn’t remember what I looked like.”

It was a fair point. “You could drive. Aside from the hideous car accident, you were usually a good driver.” She snickered.

Matthew didn’t appreciate the humor. “I’m genuinely amazed you find that amusing.”

“I’m genuinely amazed you don’t,” she shot back. Because she got the sense he was struggling very much to maintain the stern, cold façade. “But seriously, you do drive.”

He sighed. “I do… but due to obvious issues, I no longer own a car. While it would be childishly easy to steal one of the estate’s cars, I do credit Tom at least with the wit to notice one of the cars missing.”

“You wouldn’t have to steal it. I mean, Papa would surely lend your mother the use of one of the cars if she asked.” But she saw the problem. “But she doesn’t know how to drive, does she? So she would need to learn…”

“And your father, while quite modern in some ways, very much doesn’t like women learning how to drive, which means Mother can’t learn with the estate vehicles.” Matthew finished for her.

“She could buy her own car,” Mary offered. “Tom would show her how to drive… at least well enough to make it believable and then you could take over.”

Matthew nodded, although she got the sense he was about to mock her. “That’s a lovely idea. Now, where does my mother get the money for a car? At last check, all of my assets went to you. My father had some investments, but if your father wasn’t letting her live in Crawley House, the house she could afford on her own would be much smaller and simpler. Plus, she’s a seventy year old woman, Mary. Robert’s basic decency means he would have a problem with her going on lengthy overnight jaunts to York alone. He already has a problem with her day trips.” He looked up at the cross on the altar. “We have next to no chance of finding the vampire anyway.”

Which was probably true, Isobel hadn’t been especially positive about it. But she had a sudden notion she knew exactly what he was doing. “This is like when you were paralyzed, isn’t it? You’ve decided to drive everyone away because the problem is difficult.”

He stood up and paced around her angrily. “Mary,” he hissed. “This isn’t an injury. And finding and killing a vampire isn’t a game you embark on like a day of riding. You could die. Or worse, you could be turned. If that happened, it would be my fault. I won’t take you from our son.”

“It’s my choice, not yours, Matthew.” She stood up as well. “You’re my husband.”

He glared at her, and she wondered suddenly what she had said that had set him off. The last time she had seen him so angry, he was accusing her of forging Reggie Swire’s letter. He clenched his jaw and pointed at her. “I was your husband, Mary. And then I died. And you grieved… and then you moved forward, and I don’t resent that. I don’t have any right to resent that. That’s my gift to you in this. You’re free. Our marriage vows died the day I died. You don’t have to endanger your life, your very soul, on the slight chance I might be savable.”

“What if I want to?” she asked, feeling suddenly furious with him. It was so like him, she thought angrily, it was so like him to do this martyr routine. “I love you, Matthew.”

“You loved me,” he corrected, taking on that condescending tone he sometimes used with her father, “and you grieved for me, and then you let go of me. Go home, Mary, and consider this day a bad dream.”

“I never let go of loving you,” she protested, struggling not to cry.

Matthew crossed his arms. Softly he said, “I don’t want to wound you any worse than has already happened, but I can prove it if I must. And I will, because it saves you from this nightmare.”

“Then prove it,” she insisted.

“I hate your hair.” He said it simply, and offhandedly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “ He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by his thoughts. “I fell in love with you the day you strode into Crawley House with your riding clothes and your lovely hair disheveled under the hat you wore. I remember your hair, dark against your fair skin that first night, the night we were wed.” He opened his eyes, the eyes that had so enchanted her despite her anger that first time they met. “And then I died, and you grieved, and when you were ready to move on and let me go… You cut your hair. You cut your hair and got a silly flapper hairstyle that you knew I’d hate. But you didn’t let that stop you, because you had let me go. You realized I was gone, and you… moved forward. I’m not angry, I could never be angry with you… But I can’t ask that you join this nightmare of mine.”

Her eyes welled up with tears. He was right, she thought savagely, he was cutting her to the quick but she couldn’t deny it. She had cut her hair to shake away the grief and to say to the world and herself that she had moved past it, that her dead husband’s wishes and preferences no longer ruled her. He was right, as much as she liked her short hair, she had liked the smile on his face as he looked at her more. Worse, she was at a complete loss for words and like any fight they had, she couldn’t let it end with him.

“Mary, are you in here?” They both jumped as Tom Branson strode into the church. “When the rain started coming down, we called Crawley House to see if you needed a ride and Isobel said you….” His voice trailed off in shock. “What… Matthew? What in the name of God is going on?”

Matthew stepped toward him, holding up his hand. “Nothing is going on, Tom.” Mary felt that odd compelling sensation as he spoke. “You didn’t see anything at all. You’re going to go back to the car, and wait five minutes and then come back here… because you were worried about Mary being caught in the rain. That was so good of you, and she’ll be pleased she doesn’t have to wait out the storm or walk home in the wet. Now go on, go back to the car…”

Tom’s eyes grew glassy. “Back to the car,” he mumbled, “I was worried about Mary…I didn’t see anything…” He turned around and walked out, his expression puzzled.

Matthew turned to her. “I have to go. Tom is easy, but this was a bit much. I have no hold on you, Mary. Take care of George and forget that you discovered this horror.” He ducked out through the side entrance without another word.

“You’re wrong,” she called after him. “You’re so wrong.” And then she sat down on the pew and began to weep.

“Mary, are you in here?” Tom strode in again, looking no worse for wear. “When the rain started coming down, we called Crawley House to see if you needed a ride and Isobel said you…” and then he was next to her, holding her. “Mary, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Tom.” She wiped her eyes. “I just… ducked in here to avoid the rain and… I suppose my emotions got away from me for a moment. I’m sorry.”

Tom shook his head. “Don’t apologize for being human, Mary.” He took her hand and gripped it gently. “If you knew how often this happens to me, you’d laugh and call me a baby instead of a man.”

“I’d never do that, Tom,” she said as she stood up. “And I appreciate the pickup, I was worried I’d have to walk home in the rain.” I can’t walk away, she decided suddenly. “Tom… I was wondering… would you show me how to drive?”

He grinned. “You? Lady Mary? Driving herself?”

“I know, I know,” she admitted, “But it does seem silly to not learn. I mean, Edith drives… I can’t let her best me, you know.” And her father couldn’t and wouldn’t deny her use of the vehicles.


	5. Chapter 5 - New Hobbies and Practical Considerations

When she pulled up to Crawley House, she was faintly disappointed that no one came to greet her. Matthew couldn’t, of course, but Isobel was a surprise. It still struck her how eerily well he looked. But for the paleness and the disconcerting stillness, he looked perfectly normal. He was right in thinking that if he was anyplace but Downton, he could live a much more open life. God knew there were plenty of ice white pale men and women in England, in truth Matthew was only a shade lighter than her or Thomas Barrow. It was his hair and eyes that made him disconcerting to look at, because with the pale skin he looked oddly washed out but part of that was her knowing his appearance before.

It was odd that Isobel wasn’t at the door. The older woman had been quietly pleased, and possibly relieved, that Mary had made the decision to join the hunt. She had hoped to start planning the excursion to York. Even her father conceded she drove quite well, although he didn’t understand in the slightest why she wanted to learn.

She didn’t knock. Matthew wasn’t going to come to the door even if he was certain it was her if for no other reason than it would create talk in the village for a strange man to be greeting Lady Mary at her mother in law’s home with no sign of the mother in law there. She stepped in and closed the door. “Matthew,” she called to the empty house, “You can stop hiding. “

She had a suspicion that he was determined to be obstinate. Much to her surprise though, she heard him call to her. “I’m in the kitchen,” he said. “Mother is out to the hospital, if you are looking for her.”

“You’re in the kitchen?” she asked as she walked toward the back of the house. Sure enough, he was in the kitchen, fussing at the stovetop, stirring something in a sauce pan.

“Make yourself useful and try the soup,” he said, handing her a spoon.

She hesitated. It was so odd. “Why are you in the kitchen… making soup?” The various lengthy tomes on vampirism that Isobel had been lending her made it quite clear that vampires didn’t require any sustenance aside from blood.

Matthew rolled his eyes. “Obviously, it’s not for me. Mother had to get rid of her cook in order to hide me here, so I try to be helpful and tend to chores like keeping the house clean, and cooking meals. Try it. It’s just vegetable beef soup.”

It was him. It was Matthew, her friend, the man she had loved and married, the gentle soul that stopped her when she wanted to take things too far in an argument. Of course he was making his mother dinner despite the reality that he himself didn’t eat. In the two weeks since the shocking revelation, she had read the journals that Isobel had lent her. She understood his fears, more than he thought, and she understood why he had tried to talk her out of helping. Vampires were monsters that killed casually, much the way she would kill a bug that was bothering her. They were incredibly dangerous. If she understood the journals, Matthew was stronger and faster and his senses were far more enhanced than when he was alive, and he was volatile. He hadn’t been mistreating her when he had knocked her out and left her tied in a chair facing away from him, he had been struggling to control himself. To not hurt her.

She tried the soup, taking care to not touch his hand when she took the spoon. Isobel had warned her to not touch him. In fact Isobel had strongly suggested she not be alone with Matthew and Mary didn’t think the older woman said that easily. “It’s… its really quite good.”

Matthew smiled. “That’s a relief.” He shrugged as he stirred the pot. “I’ve had a sneaking suspicion that Mother has choked down more than a few dreadful meals all while praising my skills.” He smiled again at her quizzical expression. “I can’t taste anything, Mary. I work off of recipes. And unlike Mother, if I was feeding you something vile, you wouldn’t be afraid of treading on my feelings.”

“If you’re trying to pick a fight, it’s not working,” Mary said easily. “Is this what you do with your time? Practice being a cook and a housekeeper?”

He continued stirring the pot. “I don’t sleep, you know. I can’t leave the house during the day unless it’s raining or overcast. I have to have something to do with my time. I taught myself to cook, I learned to speak and read Italian. I’ve probably read every book in the village library and I am about half way through the Abbey’s collection. By the way, someone really needs to catalog the library. There are some priceless books that I don’t think your father even knows are there and I could have stolen them at any time.”

It was another indication that he was still the Matthew she loved, even if he was taking a swipe at her father. She wondered if it had dawned on him that he could have stolen one of the priceless books, sold it, and handed all of the money over to his mother to buy a car. So that they could go to York, and hunt the vampire. Of course it never dawned on him, she thought tiredly, stealing is wrong and stealing from the family is especially wrong and Matthew might be a vampire but he wasn’t a thief. “I’m not sure how I can broach the topic without explaining how I know it’s so easy for someone to waltz off with the family treasures.”

“You could start with maybe locking the front door at night,” Matthew seemed to find that rather amusing as he continued to fuss with the pots. “Imagine my surprise, in years of wandering in at three in the morning, the place is never locked up.” "What else have you been up to?" she asked. She didn't feel like waiting in the parlor, and he obviously expected Isobel soon if he was preparing her dinner. And... "We are allowed to speak to each other. I accept that this is awkward but if I am going to help you that means we do have to speak to each other."

He eyed her, his irritation obvious. "Have you made a will? Specifically, if you manage to get killed or turned, have you given any thought to who will raise our son?"

"Have you?" she retorted. Isobel had harped on the point as well.

He stopped his stirring and looked at her. "Are you genuinely asking my opinion?"

"No, this entire conversation is occurring merely to irritate you." She couldn't help it, she rolled her eyes at him. "I know it's been a bit since you've needed to make conversation but really, Matthew, your manners are lacking. Why would I ask the question if I didn't want to know?"

"Fair enough," he said tiredly. "I think Tom Branson should be George's guardian if anything happens to you."

That was a surprise. Not a terrible idea but decidedly unconventional. "Am I allowed to ask why?" It was never going to be an issue but she was curious. She took a seat at the kitchen table.

He poured her a cup of tea and joined her. "My first choice is obviously my mother but I accept that she's not young enough to raise a small child. And neither are your parents. I grew up with parents who were old enough to be my grandparents. Your parents are younger, and the obvious choice for you, but in case you haven't noticed, your father is ill. Tom is a young man, he has a child of his own, he knows how to run the estate and he's a genuinely good man who would raise George to be a good man.”

It was maddening, how clever he was. It was perfectly reasonable and sensible. Tom was a good man, and a good father, and the more she thought about it, it made sense. She hadn’t even considered it because Tom wasn’t a Crawley by blood, but he was one by marriage, he was certainly younger than her parents and he and Matthew shared similar opinions. Damn it, she thought, it meant she needed to change the document she’d written up two days earlier. “Let’s hope it never happens, but I agree with you. Only imagine poor Tom facing my father if it came to that.”

“Yes, Robert would be quite appalled you left the heir to the Irish revolutionary chauffeur. You may want to leave a letter of lengthy reasoning.” Matthew shrugged and then smirked at her. “I’d offer to write it up for you but it might raise a few eyebrows if it was in my handwriting.”

“Are you making a joke?” It surprised her.

“I thought I’d try. It has been a while. Was it at least faintly humorous?”

Dammit, his eyes were actually twinkling. “Faintly, yes. I take it you no longer object to my helping you and your mother with the… problem at hand?”

“No, I completely object.” The twinkling good humor left his face but for a surprise, it wasn’t replaced with anger. He let his hands rest on the table. “I accept I am outvoted. I know both of you well enough that if I insisted in not participating, you’d start the hunt without me. I heard the car. I assume you convinced Tom to teach you, and now you want to plan some sort of mission to York. I certainly can’t let the two of you go alone.”

“Perhaps we don’t want your help,” Mary said. She sensed he was baiting her. “Your mother managed several vampire kills according to your father’s journals.” A bit of a surprise, that revelation but she supposed that steel was part of what kept Isobel from being steamrolled by Violet.

“My mother was a young girl in her twenties,” Matthew countered, “and she was my father’s assistant, my father who was a strong man even in his fifties when I knew him. You are a lovely woman but you are not a trained fighter. And before you make some ridiculous attempt to protest, you’re tall for a woman but slight, and you didn’t even begin to break my hold on you the other day. You’ll need my help.” He looked up. “Mother is on her way. She’s talking to the neighbors down the street. Would you like to stay for dinner? It’s as easy to set a table for two as for one.”

“Are we going to talk about us?” she said finally. She steeled herself for what he would say.

He blinked. “There’s no us, Mary. You need to stop thinking that way. At the very least, you need to consider the practical issues, instead of driving my mother and I to York with the romantic notion that we’re going to immediately find the vampire and I will resume my prior life.”

“And what are the practical issues?” she asked. She was partly curious, because Matthew had always been clever, and partly annoyed because she sensed his objections revolved around his damnable need to be the noble lonely hero.

“It may not work, Mary.” He cocked his head at her, seemingly curious. “We’re quite certain there’s only one active vampire in England. They tend to leave obvious clues. But we could be wrong that the vampire in York is the one that turned me. We could kill it and it would all be for naught. Or even if it is the right vampire, it just may have been too long. For all of Mother’s talk, even she concedes, not to me but perhaps to you, and certainly to herself, that it’s been too long and I may not be savable. I’m sure she has a plan for that contingency. She may not be able to do it herself but she still has some contacts in the hunting circles.”

“You… think your mother would have you killed?” She almost laughed. “Have you met your mother, Matthew?”

He smiled tightly. “Mary… Why do you think she was holding a pair of scissors when I showed you my fangs? I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t to stab **you** in the heart. But let’s ignore that, and just presume we don’t find the right vampire, or it doesn’t work, and then what? Are you going to take on my mother’s burden? Helping me track killers across Europe as you grow older and I stay the same? Don’t you think your suitors might object?”

Despite it all, she felt a rush of anger. “I thought you were dead. You insist you are dead. How dare you? For months after your death, I could barely get out of bed. I… I even considered harming myself, so I could be with you.” That had been a day after Christmas, when she had found the book he had bought her for Christmas, with an inscription that he’d clearly written just before the trip to Scotland. It had been Anna who had found her contemplating the bottle of brandy and the sleeping pills that Dr. Clarkson had prescribed her, and it had been Anna and Tom who had made sure she wasn’t left alone or given reminders of what she had lost. “It was a nightmare, Matthew, and the only way I could cope was to… be firm with myself. You were gone. Did you expect me to be alone forever?”

Much to her surprise, he reached out and took her hand, obviously attempting to comfort her. The coldness of his hand seemed to soothe the burning emotions she was overwhelmed with. “No,” he said gently, “I never expected you to remain alone, and I didn’t intend what I said as some sort of judgement. But… I don’t want you miserable and unhappy and trapped in a relationship with a man who can never truly be with you. If you love Tony or Charles or Evelyn… You need to consider the probability that I will never be cured.” He smiled slightly. “I actually like all three of the men I mentioned. If you think you have a chance at happiness and having a normal life with any of them… Then I would wish you well.” He let go of her hand quickly, almost as if it burned him. “Like I said, I won’t stop you from joining the fight. I know you’ve already decided to… But I’d feel better about it if we decided on a certain amount of time, where if the problem wasn’t… resolved, that you would move on. We’re not married and if you find someone else, you should live your life. After all, even if I was magically alive right now, we couldn’t be together.”

He was conceding so she decided to allow it except for one point. “I’ll agree to a time limit on this, if only because I think it won’t matter. But if you simply became alive right now, of course we could be together.”

The gentle look left his face and he rolled his eyes at her. “Mary… there was a funeral. It’s been over three years. I haven’t aged. Even if I am somehow alive again, I can’t even begin to explain where I’ve been. Trust me, based on your reaction alone, the truth isn’t going to work.”

It heartened her. That he had considered the possibility that they could have a future, even if he was finding reasons to make it difficult. “That’s the easiest of the problems. The casket was closed at the funeral,” because she couldn’t bear to look at him, “and we were all upset, and Dr. Clarkson was wrong about you being dead and you had amnesia and ended up working for the past few years in some sort of homosexual bordello because the master of the house took pity on you and thought you were handsome.” She waited a moment. “That’s just off the top of my head, of course.”

He considered it. “You’ve obviously been reading a lot of romantic tripe. Amnesia and a homosexual bordello… what have your boyfriends been teaching you?” He laughed suddenly. “I demand that you be in the room when I tell your father that I had amnesia and spent three years working in a homosexual bordello.”

“In fairness, he might then find the truth, that you were a vampire secretly roaming around his estate, more acceptable.” Then she laughed and he laughed and she couldn’t help but marvel at the very idea that they were sitting together, laughing. I have to save him, she told herself. I can’t give this up again.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6 - Off To York, Secrets Revealed

“It’s very bright,” Isobel said worriedly as they drove down the road. “If it doesn’t get cloudy soon, we’ll need to wait until sunset to check in to the inn.” She pointed down the road to what looked like an abandoned cottage. “That’s where Matthew is meeting us.”

Mary held her tongue as she shifted the Reliant’s gears. “I don’t see why he couldn’t just duck down in the back seat and hide on the way out of town.” It seemed a silly detour.

“It’s best to not take chances that we don’t have to take,” Isobel said easily. “Matthew has to be very careful to not reveal himself. If someone saw him… I told you, there are other hunters. Hunters who would not be sympathetic. Frankly, they would assume I was being soft.” Isobel sighed. “And they would be right. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have hesitated.” She paused, her expression dark. “They **are** dangerous, Mary. I can’t stress that enough. Even Matthew is dangerous.”

Mary didn’t respond to that. The books she had been blunt about it, and Isobel tended to harp. So did Matthew, and while she was looking forward to spending time with Matthew that wasn’t entirely at Crawley House, she wasn’t looking forward to both of them reminded her how she was the one who knew the least about vampires.

She spotted the abandoned cottage that Matthew had spent the night at and pulled up next to it. He wasn’t waiting outside, it was too bright for that and they were too close to Downton. After a moment, she saw the raggedy curtains part. She honked the horn. “There’s no one around,” she called impatiently, “and I know what happens. I won’t laugh. We need to get going.”

Still, she couldn’t resist giggling as Matthew opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, every inch of bare skin glittering in the sun as though he was covered with jewels. His eyes blazed like sapphires as he walked to the car and ducked into the back seat. “You said you wouldn’t laugh,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry, you just looked like a precious little prancing fairy boy,” Mary said between giggles. Then she broke down and laughed. In seconds Isobel joined her. Matthew somehow managed to look flushed with embarrassment even though it simply wasn’t possible.

“Go ahead then and laugh,” he muttered. “I’m so glad my curse amuses you so.”

“Oh have a sense of humor, Matthew,” Mary said, between giggles. “The glitter aspect of your curse is adorable.”

Beside her, Isobel continued to chuckle. “You know, when he was little, he used to insist he would be a fairy princess when he grew up. He would dress up in my jewelry and scarves and prance around the house. Reginald thought it was hilarious.”

Mary started laughing even more. “You know, I brought several of my tiaras if you want to borrow them, Matthew.”

“Yes, yes, everyone keep laughing,” Matthew muttered. “Perhaps, Mother, you’d like to regal Mary with tales of my wetting the bed.”

“Well, now why would I want to bring that particular horror up?” Isobel said with a laugh. She leaned towards Mary, her tone conspiratorial. “You’re quite lucky George doesn’t take after his father in that respect. It took Matthew forever to figure it out.”

Matthew harrumphed from the back seat and crossed his arms. Mary smiled at him in the rearview mirror. He was in a better mood than his words suggested, she could see it in how he held himself. Both he and Isobel seemed livelier. More hopeful, she realized, they both seemed to think the nightmare they were in could end. This was the right decision, she decided as she turned the car back on.

~*~

The inn was decidedly lower middle class. Respectable and clean, but not where she normally would stay at all. She had taken Isobel’s advice and brought her simpler dresses. There were some fancier outfits for later. The plan was that she would be the bait, while Matthew and Isobel would keep an eye out for the vampire to attack so she would need to look the part. But first she wanted some supper and the inn maintained what looked like a passable dining room and kitchen. She was led to a table by a serving girl. “Mr. Turnbull isn’t feeling well, so he won’t be dining,” she said to the girl, “but the elder Mrs. Turnbull will join me in a few minutes.” Isobel had suggested fake names and passing themselves off as a family in order to avoid questions. Matthew had fed himself thoroughly the night before and was confident he could go a week or so without the need to harm anyone’s livestock. The inn’s servants weren’t suspicious at all. They were a family, a married couple and a parent, and Matthew was a pallid veteran who hadn’t recovered from war injuries easily. It was a common enough story.

“May I join you, Mrs. Turnbull?” She looked up from the small menu to see the smiling, amused face of the Honorable Evelyn Napier. He sat down in the chair before she could nod in a shocked manner at him. He was dressed much the way she was, in decidedly middle class clothes and lacking his normal finery. He picked up a menu and said, his expression still amused, “You’re not the Mrs. Turnbull I expected to find when I saw the name on the registration book but it’s a pleasant surprise, Mary. I assume you don’t want it revealed that you’re actually Lady Mary Crawley and I hope you’ll grant me the same favor and refer to me as Mr. Evelyn Summers for the duration of our stay.” More quietly he added, “I knew you liked the hunt. I’m just surprised Isobel took on an apprentice. She and Reginald had been quite firm in withdrawing from the circle.”

Oh dear god, Mary thought as she sipped her glass of wine, Evelyn Napier is a vampire hunter. It made perfect sense from what Isobel had told her. The hunter families tended to be peerage families with religious ties. It was usually younger sons and daughters that were tapped. Evelyn hadn’t been his father’s heir until his older brother died in an untimely accident. “I… admit to being surprised to see you, Evelyn. Pleasantly surprised, but surprised just the same.”

“I’m surprised as well,” Evelyn said easily. “I was chosen before my brother’s death but you are the eldest daughter… and you have a son to concern you.”

He was suspicious, Mary realized. Not in a harsh way, but she understood what he was thinking. If there was anyone in the family that would have taken to vampire hunting, it was Sybil. Edith and she were far too ladylike, even if she did enjoy hunting. And even if Isobel and Reginald hadn’t retired, she couldn’t see Matthew as a vampire hunter. It was the sort of burden his honor would demand he take on, and he was a brave man, but it was the sort of life that would have made him miserable. He was a brave soldier in the war, but he’d been miserably unhappy. Fortunately Isobel had considered the possibility of running into other hunters and explaining why they were there.

She took Evelyn’s hand. “I couldn’t walk away… not after Matthew’s death.” She looked into Evelyn’s eyes. “It… wasn’t what it appeared to be.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened in shock and horror. “Oh, my god. Mary, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that… Did he rise?”

“No, thank god.” It wasn’t hard to fake the emotion, even knowing what she knew, the accident was still difficult to talk about. “We think he was a victim of convenience. He might have survived the wreck if not for the bites… Isobel saw the bites and explained to me what… what needed to be done.”

Evelyn gripped her hand reassuringly. “You gave him peace, Mary. Matthew was a wonderful man with kind soul and a gentle heart. He deserved to rest without his soul sullied. Have you seen what they become?”

“No,” she lied, wondering why he was being so firm.

“I have seen it,” Evelyn’s voice grew soft. “Once they rise, they’re like animals, Mary. Some of them don’t even understand what they are. We’ve been lucky here in England. The island was cleared forty years ago, in Isobel’s time. There’s a few vampire lords still in Romania, Austria, and Italy, and Paris is always infested, but most of the job nowadays either means hunting on the mainland or hunting the scrubs here. One of the Parisian vampire lords found it a source of amusement to attack our service men as they waited for medical transports.” Evelyn sighed. “Poor chaps… That’s mostly calmed down but we think this one, the one killing here, falls into that category.”

“We think it’s the one that… harmed Matthew,” Mary said, curious to hear about the world she had been thrust into was like from someone other than Isobel. Her mother in law was clever, she would never deny it, but Isobel had her flaws. She was intensely focused on the vampire in York and ignored questions about the vampires on the continent. Mary suspected Isobel didn’t want Matthew to know certain things. From reading Reginald Crawley’s journals, she had picked up on Isobel’s concern was, namely that if Matthew did fully turn, he was likely to evade the hunters and establish his own territory. With England being essentially vampire free, it would be like unleashing a plague upon the land.

“I can understand why you both would feel the necessity,” Evelyn said. “And I won’t talk you out of it, but I beg you to be careful, Mary.” He rose to his feet as Isobel entered the dining area.

Isobel was surprised but covered it well. “Mr…. Summers… How delightful.”

“Mary was just explaining the circumstances as to your… coming out of retirement.” Evelyn’s tone was one of deep sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t hesitate to call upon me. We’re here for the same reason, and nothing would please me more than to help you both.”

“Thank you, Mr. Summers,” Isobel said easily. She glanced at Mary and then made a show of patting her pockets. “Oh dear me, I’ve left something in our rooms. Excuse me. I’ll be right back to join you both.”

Mary understood in an instant. Matthew had planned to join them after dinner so that it didn’t look odd. He’d actually been looking forward to it, but that couldn’t happen. Not with Evelyn Napier, vampire hunter, joining them for dinner.


	7. Chapter 7 - More Secrets and Horrors

It felt odd to be walking the streets of York. He found himself fighting the urge to duck into doorways and he reminded himself that it was extremely unlikely that he would run across anyone that had known him before. Still, he felt marked, and apart, even though the people who walked by him clearly saw him as nothing more than a pale man out for a late night walk on the street.

The plan had been altered due to the appearance of Evelyn Napier. It was both welcome help and a serious problem. Evelyn was nothing if not a gentleman and he had offered his assistance to Mary and his mother. They could hardly say no, since Evelyn was offering to help them hunt a dangerous creature and Mary was a novice hunter while Isobel was an elderly woman. There was no reason for them to say no that wouldn’t create suspicion. Evelyn was taking the women to the somewhat racy back streets of York to scout for the vampire. It wasn’t even a bad plan, their own research told them the vampire in York went for victims of opportunity. The newspapers were always quick to regale the public with how a young well born girl was found dead while ignoring the stack of dead whores that the killer was amassing. Evelyn had told Mary and Isobel that he thought it was some lower class bloke based on the sheer number of dead whores and it wasn’t a bad theory. His theory, and Mary and his mother had been inclined to agree, was that it was a vampire whose sanity was slowly degrading. It was killing higher born women, women that were more difficult targets and more likely to bring down police attention and the vampire hunters. For all his chivalry, Matthew doubted it was the dead whores that had Evelyn Napier interested. No, it was the Honorable Amabel Fitzhugh who had been killed that had drawn a hunter out, although Evelyn hadn’t noticed that Amabel wasn’t an outlier, that the killer in York had been killing more middle class women in the last few months. He was walking through the more middle class parts of town in hopes of spotting something or someone more suspicious than he was.

It was the scent that caught his attention. He was walking along the street and the wind picked up and he could smell blood. Not just blood, but human blood. The rich scent filled his nostrils and he hated himself for the terrible thoughts he suddenly had. You can’t, he told himself, the only chance you have is if you act like a man and not a wild animal. Self-control is what separates you from the horror. He waited just a moment, making sure he had control, before he pricked his ears for the sounds only he could hear. He’d been right, he realized as he quietly padded into a back alley. It was just getting sloppy, not caring to cover its tracks. It was lucky that the night was overcast and chilly, fewer people were about and as he drew closer, he realized the victim’s struggles had ended. He felt for the sharpened stake he’d hidden in his overcoat. No mercy, he told himself as he quietly opened the stable door. It was dark but his eyes were sharper than before and his ears were better. He found the creature bent over what had once been a pretty girl. He forced his rage away in a flash. He didn’t know the girl but she was well dressed, in clothes that suggested her family was wealthy. A badly chosen victim, it would bring more hunters. “Get up,” he hissed at the creature.

“Watch your tone, mate,” it hissed back. His accent was common, local and his voice oddly familiar. “York is mine. York has been mine. We can argue over it once I’m done.”

Matthew kicked the creature as it knelt over the body. It made a sick slurping sound as it dropped the dead girl it had been bent over. Then it rose to its feet and slowly turned around. “You better have a good reason for interrupting my dinner,” it said, its tone almost good natured. Then a smile crossed its face, a ghastly image. “Matthew! I knew you’d come!”

Matthew almost gasped. Control yourself, he reminded himself as he looked on the bloody and pale face of William Mason. The vampire’s fangs were out, and he was wearing dark clothes to conceal the blood but Matthew suspected the scuffle he’d heard was the now dead girl catching a whiff of the stench of death that surrounded William. This is your fate if you lose control, Matthew thought fearfully. This is what happens to those that feed upon humans, they go mad. The creature standing before him was William Mason in form, but he could see the madness had taken the man he’d known, the man who had fought alongside him in the war and who had ultimately saved his life.

His hand clenched around the sharpened stake under his coat. He also took your life, he told himself.

William seemed to have nothing but fond memories. “I missed you!” he said joyfully. “Never mind what I said before… I thought you were some scavenger. We can share York. There’s plenty for two of us. The hunting is excellent. I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Waiting for me?” It didn’t quite register on him, even though he understood suddenly, intellectually, that William was the one who had brought the curse upon him.

“We were such mates in the war,” William said, his tone unnaturally bright. “I didn’t take you unfairly, you know. I’d never take someone unfairly. I was hunting near Downton… I don’t let my father see me, he wouldn’t understand the gift, nor Daisy, but sometimes it’s nice to see them…”His expression grew almost wistful. He seemed to shake it off in an instant. “I smelled the blood, you see. I thought it was easy pickings and then I realized it was you.”

“So you cursed me?” It wasn’t the right thing to say, not with William seeming so unhinged but Matthew was too shocked to think.

William shook his head. “It was a _gift_ , Matthew. The gift of life. You were dying and I could have simply finished you and instead I _chose_ you. You were chosen for immortality. I worried when you didn’t appear right away but then I remembered… they put you in an expensive fancy crypt. Hard to get out of. So I waited…” His voice trailed off, and Matthew got the sense that the poor chap not only had lost track of how much time had passed, he’d also lost track of what he was saying.

Matthew said the only thing he could think of. “Why didn’t you come looking for me?”

William cocked his head. “Everyone has to rise on their own. Are you hungry? You look hungry.”

Matthew almost cursed. He wasn’t hungry, he was suddenly viciously thirsty for blood and knew all too well that the corpse on the floor was dry. Control, he reminded himself. William had been driven insane, had been insane for some time by the sound of it. “I’m fine, William…” He felt for the sharpened stake again. “I… appreciate your thinking of me. But… I didn’t want this… William, don’t you realize? I was married, I married Mary and we had a child… Now she’s all alone…” He took a step closer. He wasn’t sure, his father’s journals weren’t helpful, on whether William would be stronger than him. In life he hadn’t been, William been slightly taller but more spindly.

“Well, turn her,” William smiled. “Lady Mary would like it, she was always a huntress…” He said it like it was an obvious solution.

“I can’t do that,” Matthew said. If that temptation had crossed his mind more than once, he couldn’t deny it but even if she agreed to it, and he suspected she would, it was denying George his mother.

William looked at him quizzically. “Don’t you know how? It’s so easy… but then you’re so fresh… I have so much to teach you…” He sniffed the air. “There’s hunters coming. Do you have a place to stay? I have a cottage outside of town for now. I killed the owner and no one ever came looking for him.”

Looking at William, and smelling the stench of decay all around the vampire, Matthew suspected the place likely still had the dead crofter lying where William had dropped his body. “I’m at an inn…”

“You need to stop that,” William said with a snort. “My place is out on Miller Road, the last cottage before the forest. You know to be careful in the daylight, at least? The sparkling?’ He waited until Matthew nodded. “I’ll think on your problem and we’ll meet tomorrow at sundown!” With that he rushed out the door of the stable. Matthew did the same, speeding his way back to the inn. We can entrap him, he thought as he ran. For an instant it almost felt as though his heart was beating with excitement.

~*~

“How brazen it is,” Evelyn muttered beside her as they watched the police converge. “Brazen and sloppy.”

“One of the ones that have gone mad?” Mary mused aloud. Isobel nodded, although she felt a certain horror at the late night scene. The vampire had taken a fourteen year old girl, essentially a well grown child, the daughter of a jewelry merchant who had snuck out of her home not for any nefarious purpose but to check on her new pet pony that she had received as a gift earlier in the day. Now she was dead and it would draw more hunters, and unless Matthew had somehow discovered the vampire’s identity, they were no closer.

Mary at least seemed determined to make a good show of it. “Let me see if I can find out more,” she said to Evelyn and Isobel. “If listening to Edith’s nattering has taught me anything about the news rags, it’s that the police do like to talk to female reporters.” She took a small pad of paper out of her. “Let’s see if it’s true.”

Evelyn nodded agreement and Mary walked toward the huddled police officers. “Why don’t we take a seat over on that park bench? So we don’t attract attention?”

She nodded agreement and they crossed the street to the small park. She didn’t know Evelyn as a hunter, but she had known his father and the Napier family was well known in the hunting circles. Evelyn wouldn't have been tapped for the job casually, and while she didn’t consider herself an expert, his caution and thoroughness reminded her of Reginald. If Matthew hadn’t been with them, she would have been grateful for the assistance.

Evelyn gave her a dark look as they watched Mary in the distance approach the policemen. “I know Lady Mary has never held an especially high opinion of me,” he said softly, “and we barely know each other, Mrs. Crawley… but I am well aware that the two of you are lying to me.” He held up his hand as she began to protest. “Don’t bother denying it, Mrs. Crawley. The inn registry included a Mr. Turnbull and when I asked the nice serving girl, she nearly swooned while telling me about handsome Mr. Turnbull with the blond hair and blue eyes… and the unfortunate pallid complexion.”

“It’s not what you think,” Isobel began. Evelyn waved away her protests.

“It’s exactly what I think,” he said coldly. “God knows, I understand. It broke my mother, when she realized what my brother had become… But she did her duty to humanity, even though it eventually killed her.” He took her hand and gripped it firmly. “No matter how much you loved him, the creature you’re protecting and aiding is not your son. Look at what he did tonight.”

It gave her a start. “Matthew didn’t do this.”

For a wonder, Evelyn chuckled. “Are you really that deluded, Mrs. Crawley? Or has he mesmerized you? I admit, you’ve done a wonderful job concealing him. I wasn’t even suspicious until I started tracking the dead prostitutes and your name kept turning up as a kindly benefactor. Then I started looking into Downton Village and how they’ve had a bad run of livestock turning up dead… dead and bloodless. Your work with the indigent must have made it easy for him to get victims that wouldn’t be missed.” Evelyn eyed her carefully, his grip on her hand firm. “He’s using you, that’s obvious. Tell me he’s threatened you, or Lady Mary, or the child, and I will be kind in my reports. I assume Lady Mary is mesmerized, she’s clearly in its thrall but you’re not. Did it threaten the Crawley heir? Is that it?”

Isobel felt a cold chill. Evelyn Napier was hunting Matthew. “You’re wrong, Evelyn. Matthew has never taken a human life. He hasn’t fully turned. We think the vampire killing here in York is the one that bit Matthew. We are trying to save him.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh for god’s sake, Mrs. Crawley, that’s a myth. I know your husband believed it, but it was the silly theory of an otherwise clever man.”

She almost struck him. “It wasn’t a theory,” she hissed. “Reginald saved me. I was bitten. I turned, and Reginald taught me to turn the thirst towards animals. Then, when he killed the creature that had attacked me… I changed back.”

Evelyn sniffed. “So you’re delusional. Good. I won’t have to kill you for succoring a demon. Where is he hiding?”

“I’m not delusional,” she shot back. “You can deny it all you want, but Reginald was correct and I wasn’t the only documented case. Matthew can be saved. And he’s not the killer here in York.”

“How exactly can you prove that?” He was condescending.

“Matthew turned when he had the car accident. He was attacked while he was dying by the car.” She kept a grip on his hand. “So if you’re right, the prostitutes started dying in late 1921. But they didn’t. They started dying in late 1917. The pattern is clear, but it couldn’t have been Matthew . For god’s sake he couldn’t even walk then, let alone feed his blood thirst on whores. You attended numerous functions at Downton where you saw Matthew in direct sunlight. You know he wasn’t a vampire, so tell me, Mr. Napier, who was killing the whores then?” Behind her, she heard the sound of a deliberate footfall. Oh please, she prayed.

She could see him pale as he considered it. “I concede,” he said softly, his eyes on Mary as she stepped away from the police, “that there may be another vampire in play, but I do not subscribe to this insane theory that vampires can be….” His voice trailed off as Mary halted in the street, her eyes clearly looking beyond the both of them. Then Evelyn pitched forward from the bench and collapsed on the ground.

Matthew jumped over the bench effortlessly. “So this presents a huge problem.”

~*~

Mary was glad for once to have worn flats. It made running down the cobblestone streets of York at close to midnight easier, that was certain. She was fetching the Reliant. Evelyn was out cold, and likely to stay that way for hours, and while Matthew was certainly physically capable of carrying the man through the streets, it was asking him to test his self-control far too much. It was a twenty minute walk back to the inn. Holding a live human being that long was too risky for him, and she and Isobel could hardly drag the man through the streets. Once they were at the inn, Matthew could chance carrying Evelyn up to their rooms, passing him off as a friend who’d had too much to drink.

And then they would tie Evelyn up and decide how they were going to kill him. She didn’t see any way around it. Evelyn wasn’t a fool. If they let him live, he would bring reinforcements. Matthew would be hunted like a rabid dog. It would likely force him to embrace the darkness, to fully turn. She wasn’t going to allow that. If that meant that Evelyn Napier had to die… Her fear was that Matthew, of all people, would be the one to balk at the necessity. She forced the thought from her head. The first problem, she told herself, was to get Evelyn to their rooms and get him tied up. Once he was secure, they would have more time to think about the problem. She was opening the car door when an unpleasant odor reached her nostrils. Before she could react, she was grabbed and flung around against the door, only to find herself staring into the mad eyes of William Mason.

“Lady Mary,” he said, his tone jovial, his fangs out. “I always liked you. I always appreciated how you looked out for me when my mother was sick. And Matthew loves you so…. I can’t fault his weakness, because I share it. I couldn’t turn Daisy even though I wanted her at my side. But Matthew misses you, and can’t do it himself so I have to do my duty as his batman.” He pulled her into an embrace and plunged his teeth into her shoulder. She cried out and struggled but he was inhumanly strong. Then he let go of her. “This isn’t unfair. Matthew wants it and is so _fresh,_ he doesn’t know how. I give you this gift freely. We’ll have such fun!” And then he ran off, he ran off with blinding speed, leaving her clutching her shoulder and realizing with dawning horror what had just happened.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8 - Evelyn Napier's Secretly Horrifying Backstory

Matthew didn’t bother checking the knots his mother and made tieing Evelyn Napier’s unconscious body to the chair in the room they’d gotten at the inn. She knew what she was doing and it had already been a test of his self control to not take a taste as he lugged the unconscious man from the car to the inn. Evelyn was a problem but if they were discreet, and if they killed William in the next twenty four hours, it was just possible they wouldn’t have to kill him. As he watched, his mother gagged the man while Mary watched, her face pale. Something was wrong with Mary, he realized suddenly. Her scent was off, and she was frightened despite the obvious problem being solved. It worried him

“There,” Isobel said. “If he wakes up, he won’t be able to yell for help. This room has a tub in the washroom. Mary, go fill it.” Mary’s eyes widened but she nodded with resignation, as if accepting a terrible chore. That also made him wonder.

“Forgive me,” he asked quietly, “but this seems like an odd time to draw a bath.”

Isobel looked at him, her surprise obvious, and then rolled her eyes. “I forget, you don’t always see the obvious. Matthew, Evelyn was hunting you. We can’t let him go, he will alert the other hunters. So we have to kill him. And we have to kill him in a way that doesn’t…. excite you. So we’ll need to drown him in the tub. The innkeeper’s staff saw you carry him in, seemingly drunk. They’ll assume he stupidly got into the tub while drunk. There will be a bit of a fuss since he’s a Napier but no one will suspect…”

“Mother, no.” He didn’t know how to articulate how horrified he was to hear his mother calmly detail out why it was necessary for her and his wife to murder Evelyn Napier. “We don’t have to kill Evelyn…”

There was a knock on the door. It was near midnight, which meant it was one of the innkeeper’s employees. Matthew held up his hand for quiet, and opened the door, carefully positioning himself so that the young woman who worked the inn’s front desk couldn’t see any of the drama in the room. “What is it?”

The woman, little more than a girl held out an envelope to him. His first name was scrawled on it in a shaky but recognizable hand. “A man left this for you, Mr. Turnbull. He didn’t have your last name but you’re the only guest with the name Matthew and he described you perfectly.  I meant to hand it to you when you came in but your hands were full with your friend who was indisposed. Is he all right?”

“He will be in the morning, once he’s slept it off,” Matthew said with forced cheer. “And I apologize for having to bring him here in such a state. The chap who left this, was he quite fair, with a dark overcoat?”

“Yes.” The girl looked nervous. “He didn’t seem as… respectable as you or Mr. Summers, if you don’t mind my saying, sir.”

“He won’t come around again, this is likely the bill from the bar Mr. Summers and I enjoyed ourselves at. Don’t worry.” He closed the door and waited a moment before resuming the prior conversation. “We don’t have to kill Evelyn because I know who the vampire is. I wasn’t able to stop him from killing that poor girl but…”

“It’s William,” Mary said suddenly, her voice shaking. “William Mason.”

“How did you find that out, Mary?” Isobel went to her side. Matthew wanted to, he could see she was shaking but he knew better. He watched helplessly as Mary sat down on the bed and began to cry while his mother held her.

Mary pulled her shirt down, exposing two punctures on her shoulder. “I was…. Getting the car and he grabbed me and said Matthew was too… fresh to know how and that we’d have fun. And then he bit me. I couldn’t fight him off.” She began to sob. “Oh god, what’s going to happen?”

Matthew felt sick. It was exactly what he had feared when Mary first volunteered to help him find the vampire. With shaking hands, he opened the envelope William had left. _Had to run, the police were too close, but I left you a gift. Meet me at Clifford’s Tower in seven days. Bring Mary, she’ll be ready to learn by then_. “Damn it…” He looked at Isobel. “It was William who turned me. He’s gone quite mad. I found him… feasting on that murdered child and he admitted that he had bitten me. In a strange way, I think he felt he was doing me a favor, giving me a gift. I… told him that he took me from my family… this is my fault. This is all my fault.”

Mary shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Matthew. He was so… unhinged. And I froze when I should have run. What does the note say? I assume it is from William.” She looked at him intently. “We’re so close, Matthew. If I turn… I’ll turn back once he’s dead.”

So businesslike and calm, as if it was nothing to be bitten but a mild inconvenience, yet he could see the fear in her eyes. She was being brave for him, knowing it was the thing that horrified, that George would be left with no parents at all. “He said the police were on to him, which isn’t a surprise since this last killing was horrific. He wants to meet at Clifford’s Tower in seven days. So we can… divide York I suppose and hunt. He said to bring Mary.”

“Does it happen that fast?” Mary said. She looked at them both, worried. “I feel fine.”

“That will change, Mary.” Isobel said. “William was an outlier, taking so long to turn.” She looked at Matthew. “We have to leave. If she turns here, it’s a disaster. And we still have to kill Mr. Napier.”

He saw Napier’s ears twitch. An idea came to him. It was Mary who mattered now, Mary who needed to be saved. She needed an ally who could walk about in broad daylight safely and Evelyn… had carried a torch for Mary for years. Always respectful, always a gentleman. “He’s listening to us, Mother. He’s been conscious since you said to draw a bath for him. We need an ally.”

“Matthew, he’s a hunter. He’s hunting you.” Isobel stood up. “Worse, he’s a true believer. It’s how some raise their children in the families.”

He made his decision. “Take Mary into the ajoining room and let me see if I can’t convince Mr. Napier to assist us.”

“Matthew….” Isobel hesitated. “Mesmerizing him may not work. This isn’t telling Tom Branson he saw something impossible.”

“I have no intention of mesmerizing him, Mother.” He waved off her protest. “If I can’t convince him to join us of his own free will, then we simply drown him in the tub, as planned. But give me a moment with him. Evelyn, stop pretending you’re still unconscious.”

Evelyn obliged him by opening his eyes and glaring at him. “Mother, take the gag out of his mouth, and take Mary into the other room.”

His mother didn’t move. “He’ll yell for help.”

He picked up a pillow. “If he does, I’ll hold this pillow over his face until he suffocates. Do you understand me, Evelyn? One word, one louder than normal word, and you’ll die. Nod if you understand and agree to these terms?” Evelyn glared even more but slowly nodded his head. “Good. Mother, take off the gag, and take Mary into the other room. You two should start packing your things.”

“Matthew,” Mary protested. “Isobel is right. I know it’s ugly to consider but…”

“Don’t worry, Mary,” he said. He made a shooing motion and waited until the adjoining door was close to sit down across from the tied up man. “Evelyn, I need your help.”

“I will kill you,” Evelyn hissed.

Matthew nodded tiredly. “I think that’s likely the end result of the deal I am about to propose to you.”

“I’m not making any deals with any damned vampire,” Evelyn said coldly. “Your mother is insane and so was your father. You’re a monster. It was tragic enough that you died so terribly, but a hundred times worse that you’ve risen and ruined your mother’s life and your wife’s as well. I _will_ kill you, Matthew.”

Matthew sighed. “Evelyn, have you not been paying attention? You’re tied to a chair. There are three people who can untie you, and two of them are planning to drown you in the tub in order to make your murder look like an accident, while the blood thirsty vampire is trying to find a reason to keep you alive. Will you at least consider my suggestion before you dismiss it?”

Evelyn relaxed against the bonds that held him. “You can’t mesmerize me. But go ahead. Taunt me before you kill me. Why would I help a creature I’ve sworn to destroy?”

“Because you love Mary, and she can be saved.” Matthew waited a long moment. “My father wasn’t insane, and he did document three cases of women turning but turning back when the vampire that sired them was killed. They were kept from tasting human blood, they never fully turned.”

“It’s….” Evelyn looked down, clenching his jaw. “It’s insanely dangerous. A new born vampire is insatiable…”

“Oh for god’s sake, don’t you think I know that?” Matthew said tiredly. “God, I killed a dog and a horse my first night. If the thirst hadn’t dulled down after the first month, you probably would have caught just by all the dead livestock piling up.”

Evelyn eyed him curiously. “You really haven’t taken a human life, have you? Your mother said, but I assumed she was lying, the way my mother lied about my brother. She did something similar, she tried to save him since he was the first born.” His expression grew dark. “My brother lied to her. Oh he fed on the animals she brought, but our tenants started disappearing and turning up dead. She had to kill him. Then she killed herself. How do I know you’re not lying?”

What a core of pain you hide under your smiling, pleasant face, Matthew mused. The truth was that he’d always liked Evelyn Napier, and had never suspected the hideous family tragedy that had shaped the man. “You won’t. Not until William Mason is dead.”

“It’s been too long,” Evelyn added. “And you’re a man, not a woman. Your father saved three women, all of whom had turned for at most a month. There was a recorded case on the continent but again, a woman who had turned for less than two weeks. Even if you have restrained yourself, you’ve been gone too long and you’re male.” Evelyn hesitated. “Women are different. There are no vampire ladies, you know. It’s rare enough to find a male that doesn’t mentally deteriorate but the women… they go very quickly.” Evelyn managed to look sympathetic if just for a moment. “I’m sorry if your mother gave you false hope. It’s never worked on a man, and rarely on women, and you’ve been dead far too long.”

Matthew shook it off. Evelyn wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already considered. “This isn’t about me, Evelyn. This is about Mary. William Mason bit her tonight and he will be at Clifford’s Tower in seven days. I may be lost but _Mary_ could be saved. It’s seven days. She may not even turn in that amount of time, and if she does, it’s well under that month timeline. William is quite mad. He thinks he did me a favor in attacking Mary, that we’ll be good mates. We know where he’ll be. If we kill him, we save her.”

“It’s not easy killing a vampire,” Evelyn said after a long moment of consideration. “And if Mary turns, she’ll need to be confined or kept distracted.”

“My father had a hunting cabin not far from here.” Matthew had been thinking about it recently. “I suspect it’s relatively well kept. My mother rents the land to a shepherd so there’s livestock and… there’s a basement.” A basement he’d rarely been allowed in, and it had scared him as a child the way both of his parents had been so quick to divert him away from it. “It’s probably where my father kept my mother when she was… turned.”

Evelyn was quiet for a long moment. “I help you. We kill William Mason, we save Mary. And you… what happens to you, Matthew?” He shook his head. “You’re too dangerous to leave alone, you understand that? You’re the sort that doesn’t go mad. A vampire with its wits festers a landscape, and you were always clever. If I let you go, one hundred years from now my great grandchildren will be cursing my soft heart as they battle you.”

“No they won’t,” Matthew disagreed. “It will work for Mary. If it doesn’t work for me… then you will kill me.”

Evelyn made a scoffing sound. “You’d let me kill you? That seems unlikely.”

“You said it yourself,” Matthew said, his voice careful. “I’m dangerous, and Mary will never leave my side and that will always be a temptation. And… you think my mother is weak, but her hand is stayed only because she has the hope that I will turn back the way she did. When that doesn’t happen… I don’t want my mother to end up like your mother. It would be a kindness to my family. Can you believe that if nothing else I’ve said?”

After a long moment Evelyn nodded. “I don’t trust you and I won’t trust you, but I do believe if nothing else that you want Mary to be spared. I’ll help you. Now untie me.”

“Mother will need to do that,” Matthew said as he rose to his feet to get her.  “I don’t touch people unless necessary. It increases temptation.”

“What a sad, dismal undead life you lead.” Evelyn said. “I’ll be putting you out of your misery, won’t I?”

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9 - The Rising

Isobel wasn’t sure, as she watched Mary’s chest rise and fall more and slowly, whether it was a good or bad thing that William’s bite was taking her quickly. It was a nightmare, truly. If anything went wrong, Mary and Matthew were both damned and she had no illusions about how Evelyn Napier would handle a failure. Or how she would as well. As hard hearted as Evelyn was being, frowning darkly as he sat on the other side of the bed, Isobel had to admit she was grateful he was there. There were things that could happen, things that would be necessary, if the plan to kill poor William Mason failed in any way. “It shouldn’t be long now,” she said to the younger man.

Evelyn nodded. She wondered suddenly if he’d seen his brother die in a similar fashion. “Only three days… I didn’t think it would be this fast. Didn’t Mason linger for almost a month?”

“Everyone is different, you know that,” she said after a long moment. “William… I think he was worried about leaving his father alone and his girlfriend unwed. He fought it till his last breath.” She gave Evelyn a knowing look. “How many have you killed, Evelyn?”

“Thirty two,” he said easily. At her raised eyebrows, he added, “I told you, we were lucky here. The Balkans are going to be a hunting ground for years. There’s a darkness there…” He shuddered. “The worst is knowing that I’ll never be able to walk away. England will always need to be defended.”

“Nonsense.” If any good is to come of this, Isobel thought suddenly, at the very least I can offer this poor man a life handed back. “You’re a young man who has stared into horror alone for far too long. Don’t let this duty you have taken on destroy all the chances you have to be happy. You should find yourself a bride. I dare say, there must be many women who would like to be the wife of a handsome noble man like yourself.” In fact it struck her a bit odd that Evelyn wasn’t married. He was handsome enough, pleasant, and had money and a title, and even better had survived the war with no obvious disfigurements.

He smiled slightly as he watched Mary slowly breathe in and out. “I’m afraid, Mrs. Crawley, that I fell in love with a woman who always seemed to find the other chap more interesting.”

“Oh Evelyn,” Isobel said, trying not to show how much she wanted to slap him silly, “then do yourself a favor and remember she never would have been happy with you. There is a woman out there for you. If I were a young woman who hadn’t already found love, I admit, I would have found you more than worthy of attention. In fact you remind me a great of my husband.” Gently she added, “I know you feel a duty, but you are allowed to step back from the darkness and have a life of your own. Thirty two is twenty two more than your own father, as I recall. You’ve done your part, you’ve earned your happiness.”

“Perhaps…” Evelyn sighed. He waited a long moment. “I think she’s gone.”

“She is… but we’ll wait a few moments before we call Matthew in. His control is masterful, but he loves her dearly and might be tempted if she isn’t already gone.” And she deeply feared the consequences if Mary had anything close to Matthew’s control.

Evelyn gestured towards the closed door that led to the rest of the small cottage. “Why do you suppose he’s different? Three years is a very long time to hold off. You’ve let him read your husband’s journals.”

“Not all of them,” she snapped. “He never knew… until he rose, what Reginald and I used to do. We made the decision to leave the hunting circles, we never wanted Matthew involved.”

“You’re not a fool, Mrs. Crawley.” Evelyn’s eyes seemed to bore holes into her.  “You know that if this doesn’t work, that I will need to settle this. I don’t say that to be cruel/ I just want it understood between us that I can’t allow a vampire to live. This… technique may save Mary, that’s why I am willing to try it. But… we both know how unlikely it is to save Matthew.”

And how to respond to that, Isobel thought. She could hardly fault Evelyn.  She had the same disturbing thoughts about Matthew. “Evelyn… I can’t and won’t fault you if my worst fears are realized. But… I ask you, I even beg you, to give Matthew a chance. I’m not asking you to risk your life, I’m asking you to allow for the possibility that killing William will free both Mary and Matthew.”

After a long moment Evelyn nodded. “I liked Matthew when he was alive. I’m willing to give him a chance. But… I’m not willing to die for someone already dead and if this doesn’t save him, I can’t ignore the cancer he represents.”

“If it comes to that,” Isobel said, hating herself for voicing the thought, “I won’t hold it against you, but you must give him a chance.” It worried her. Evelyn had always struck her as an honorable man but she sensed a certain rigidity in him. She had no doubt that he wouldn’t have any regret over killing a vampire.

He seemed to sense her fear. “I swear, before God, Mrs. Crawley, I will give Matthew a chance. For what it’s worth, in this half-life he’s been living these last three years, I do think he’s kept his soul intact. If killing William doesn’t cure him, at least… At least he’ll be set free of this horror. I don’t… I don’t know if you can see how miserable he is.”

“I do Evelyn.” Isobel stood up and looked down at her now dead daughter in law. “If that… becomes necessary… I won’t thank you. I can’t. He’s my son. But I can and do thank you for removing the task from my shoulders. I don’t believe I could manage it. In fact I’m sure I couldn’t.” She was sure of that, made worse in that her unrealistic hope had led to her son’s misery and her daughter in law being trapped in the nightmare.

And Mary needed to be dealt with.

~*~

Once she rises, Matthew thought with no small amount of amusement, she’ll be so annoyed to find herself in the barn. It was so strange, being able to touch her without the blood thirst rising. He had carried her still form to the barn for a very specific reason. The stone cottage was isolated, and so was the barn, and if for some reason he wasn’t able to control Mary, his mother and Evelyn would be safe in the house. And being in the barn meant he could pen the sheep up and make it easy for her.

What he really worried about was the possibility that Mary would find the gifts that came with the curse to be too enticing. He could admit, as the time dragged on and the blood lust dimmed to controllable levels, that there was some pleasure to be had in being incredibly strong and fast, in never feeling pain or needing sleep, in mesmerizing someone, or being able to run across a field in a flash and take down a stag with his bare hands. He could even admit the pleasure of drinking blood and seeing his skin sparkle in sunlight. But that pleasure was strongly tempered by the grinding loneliness of his existence and watching George grow older with no father, and watching Mary establish her own, separate life. Soon enough, if Mary had never gotten curious about her mother in law’s basement, he wouldn’t have been able to bear it much longer.

Mary wasn’t him. They had much different temperaments, she ran hot while he had always been more calm and thoughtful. In her own way, she had already grappled with aching loneliness and despair. She had buried her husband, grieved deeply, and then moved on. She had always been waiting for her real life to begin, because she was required to have a husband in order to be anything other than an ornament. She had just been starting when he had died. She was likely to find the power enticing, that and the freedom to do as she pleased. She also tended to make decisions based on emotions and he knew from experience that the first taste of blood led to a riot of emotions. His mother was the bravest woman he knew, or would ever know, because she had risked her life to slap his face and turn his deadly intentions from her to the dog she’d brought for him to feed on.

Mary wouldn’t be facing a live human being within arm’s length but she would be able to smell the two tasty morsels in the cottage and his job was to turn her attention to the penned up sheep. This won’t be an argument you lose, Matthew promised himself. Mary couldn’t be allowed to harm a human being. It had taken her several days to die, and another to rise. He had to get her thirst sated and get her secured before he and Evelyn kept the appointment with William. Mary would be too new to the hunt to be trusted. The meeting with William was the next evening and he didn’t intend to bring Mary to it. He had been an easily distracted mess until he had gotten control of the thirst. He and Evelyn had already agreed that Mary wouldn’t be involved. It was too risky, with her turned, she was too unpredictable. Especially since the battle was going to end with just Evelyn left alive.

He shook off his dark thoughts as Mary slowly began to stir from the mound of hay that he laid her body upon. At least it’s not a grave, he reminded himself as her eyes fluttered. He didn’t have nightmares, because he didn’t sleep as a vampire, but the memory of being in the casket and digging his way out of the grave still made him shake, especially coupled with the insane hunger and overwhelming terror that something was horribly wrong. Mary could be saved, and that meant minimizing the awfulness.

Her eyes opened and sat up, her expression puzzled. She looked down at herself and then at him. “Why… why am I in the barn? In my robe and bedclothes...” She cocked her head. Then she smiled. “I am in the barn and I can hear your mother and Evelyn discussing how… how I died and how you’re waiting for me to rise.”

He reached out and helped her to her feet. She gripped his hands with new strength. She’s not, he noted, feeling some reassurance about his plan, as strong as I am. He hoped Isobel and Evelyn continued to respect his stern warning to not discuss the plan to contain Mary out loud. She certainly could hear as well as he could.

“I told you,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so she wouldn’t recoil. It took him weeks to adapt to the sensory overload, he hoped it was easier for her, and that she wouldn’t have to bear it for long. “Everything is louder, and brighter. Everything feels more intense… Everything smells more intense…”

She sniffed the air, clearly shocked by how enhanced the sense was, how enticing certain scents were. She looked over his shoulder, at the nervously shuffling penned in sheep, and then licked her lips. Then she looked at him, clearly startled. “I’m so… hungry… is this what you’ve gone through, what you’ve felt every time I was close?”

“Yes, but worse.” A hundred times worse, and she would know soon enough because Evelyn and Isobel, and any human that wandered by, smelled far more enticing. As he had the thought, he saw that she did as well, and was lost, trembling with confusion as her new instincts told her where the best feast was. Best to get it over with, he decided. “The sheep, Mary. They’re for you.”

She cocked her head, as if amused. “Such a thoughtful gift… But how? And…” Then she licked her lips again, and took an unnatural, incredibly fast leap towards the penned animals. He watched only for a moment, to make she had one in hand before he turned his head to give her some privacy. The terrified animal squalling and the delighted slurping told the tale.

Made worse that despite his own earlier meal, he felt the stirring of hunger himself. He didn’t act on it. Mary needed a guide, and he wasn’t close to desperate and the hunting was easy. Even if Mary fed on all the penned in sheep, there was still a generous herd in the nearby field. And she wasn’t going to feed on all of them, he could already hear her slowing down. He made no effort to stop her, the initial thirst was maddening, and it was better for his purposes to let her feast until sated and gorged. He turned back around as she dropped the body of her sixth sheep. She wiped her mouth, the fangs retracting, blood dripping from her mouth on to her robe and night clothes. She shook her head, as if shaking off her fears, her eyes meeting his. “I think… I’m done. For now.”

“There’s plenty for later,” although his plan guaranteed she would suffer the thirst. He gestured to the bucket of water, washing things, and fresh clothes he had stationed in the barn. “You might want to freshen up, before I take you back to the cottage.” He took her hand intentionally, and prayed his mother’s journal entries about her time as a freshly turned female vampire weren’t an exaggeration or fantasy.

Matthew could see that Mary noticed the difference, she hesitated to let go, and he found it difficult as well. He felt a different stirring, as she cleaned away the worst of the blood. Use that, he told himself, that was the plan. “Look,” he said brightly as he let his hand fall on her bare shoulder, “we can touch again. I won’t kill you.”

She gripped his hand and pulled him close. “We _can_ touch, can’t we? My husband is free to touch me, to ravish me like a pirate demanding a fresh wench at the alehouse…” She smirked at him, her expression suddenly lascivious. “Perhaps… perhaps your mother and poor Evelyn can wait a few more minutes….? So that you and I can perhaps… reacquainted?” Her arm was suddenly bathed in sunlight from one of the barn windows and the sparkling glow seemed to captivate her. She laughed at the dancing sparkles, her eyes lighting up. Then she pulled him close. “I have a wonderful idea, Matthew! Let’s leave this disgusting barn and go out to the meadow and… Be as one! Like on our honeymoon! Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

Oh my dear Mary, Matthew thought sadly as he smiled at her shining face, you’re displaying all the worst traits of female vampires. You’re as scattered as a five year old with too much candy and you’re blithely suggesting something that in normal times would make you blush. Which means I will easily trick you into letting me chain you up in the bedroom because you’ll think it’s exciting and you’re so addled you won’t even realize what I am up to. Best of all when this is over with, you’ll never take me to task because you’ll be too embarrassed, once you’re cured, to ever mention it since the tale will start with how you suggested we fornicate in a field.

He didn’t win often, or so thoroughly, so he did take a moment to relish it as she led him to the meadow, merrily dropping her garments as she undressed. There was only one thing he worried about.  Don’t be looking out the window, he mentally thought to his mother, and I will never mention how your journal entries about your wanton lust for Father while in this state were what gave me this idea to distract Mary.


	10. Chapter 10 - At Clifford's Tower

“I will kill you both!” Matthew shoved Evelyn out the bedroom as Mary shrieked in rage and rattled the chains he had tricked her into. “Matthew, you’re a son of a bitch! I hate you!  I wish you had died in the war! No, I wish you had died in that damn car! What kind of fucking idiot crashes their car!” He slammed the door and barricaded it, even as Mary screamed more abuse at them. “Evelyn, you’re a limp dicked queer and that’s why no one wants you! When I get out of these chains, I will rip off your dick and make you eat it! And Matthew, I will rip out your fucking heart with my bare hands and make your bitch mother eat it!”

Matthew shook his head tiredly as he took in Evelyn’s horrified expression and badly torn clothes. “Are you all right? I appreciate your willingness to be… bait.” He also hoped it would impress upon Evelyn that he could be trusted despite being a vampire. Luring Mary into the bedroom and convincing her to let him chain her up so that the two of them could both dine on Evelyn’s blood without her going into a frenzy required Evelyn being within arm’s reach of a newly made vampire filled with blood lust. “You’ll need to change out of those trousers before we go.” Evelyn’s trousers were ripped to shreds.

“That… creature, is not Lady Mary,” Evelyn said, his voice shaking with shock. He seemed to catch his breath and recover. “It’s worse when you know who they were before. I’d forgotten that.”

Matthew wondered suddenly if Evelyn had been required to witness his brother’s death. “She’s not herself and women are more… affected.”

“I can hear you, you fucking bastard!” Mary shouted through the thick, barred door. “I wish I’d killed you the way I killed Kemal!”

“And if you think I didn’t twinge a bit in fear our wedding night, you would be wrong,” Matthew called back easily and pleasantly, “but I assure you that you’ll feel much better in just a little while.” That was met with an almost unholy shriek of rage. He checked the door again and then went up the stairs, Evelyn following.

His mother handed Evelyn a stack of clothes, keeping her eyes down, until Evelyn took himself to the small bedroom to change. She then looked at Matthew, her expression worried. “Are you all right, Matthew? It must be very difficult to see Mary like this.”

“I admit, I had no idea Mary even knew words like that, let alone would ever say them out loud,” Matthew admitted.

For a wonder, his mother chuckled. “Oh Matthew, we all _know_ the words. They’re just usually reserved for child birth.” More seriously, she added, “Are you all right?”

“No,” he admitted, “But this long, terrible afternoon has convinced me beyond a doubt that no matter what it takes, William Mason must be destroyed and the sooner the better. Evelyn and I will leave for York as soon as he is ready.” It was fortunately a rainy afternoon, and the day of William’s invitation. It would be over soon. “Mother, I know you know more about this than I but I must say this. It may occur to Mary that if she presents herself calmly that you might unchain or let her out. Don’t believe a word she says. When she’s having moments of clarity, she does recall the plan to kill William and free her from the curse. I tested the chains and I don’t think I could get out but don’t open that door until Evelyn returns. If… that doesn’t happen by tomorrow, you must assume the worst. Evelyn told me that he gave you the names of some other active hunters. Don’t attempt it on your own, you must promise me that.”

She nodded. “I do promise that, Matthew.” Evelyn stepped back into the main living room, in a fresh suit of clothes. Much to Matthew’s surprise, Evelyn gave Isobel a stern look as well.

“Matthew is right,” Evelyn said quietly. “Do not engage her, Isobel. If the worst happens, contact Sir Malcolm Wycliffe. He’s skilled. And merciful. I’ve left a letter for him, and for my family.”

“I’ve left letters as well, Mother. They are on the mantle. There’s one for you, for Mary and for George.” He held up his hand to stop her protests. “Mother, you must be realistic. I should have died three years ago. As insane as William now is, he was right. He saved me that night, he allowed me to have more time than I had any right to. Evelyn and I are doing this to save Mary and to put William at rest. If only one of us can return, it has to be Evelyn.”

“Then please take care to see to it that you both return.” Her eyes and voice were firm, if filled with emotion. “And you will allow me to hug you.”

Because it was likely the last time, he thought. “We can afford the risk, I think.” He held her firmly in his arms, and tried not to think of how tempting it was to let Mary have her way. Control, he reminded himself as his mother hugged him fiercely. Then she let go of him, as if sensing she was pushing the edges of his ability to restrain himself. Then she surprised him by hugging Evelyn Napier as well.

“Be careful, Evelyn, and remember what I told you, that you have earned the right to step back from the darkness.” She let go of Evelyn and wiped her eyes. “Thank you for helping us. Please don’t forget the promise you made to me.”

“I won’t, Mrs. Crawley,” Evelyn said, a trace of a smile crossing his face. Matthew considered asking but realized he probably didn’t want to know.

~*~

Evelyn pondered the risk as he drove through the dark streets of York. He wasn’t surprised that there was no one about. The death of the child seven days earlier put the city on notice that there was a killer on the loose. The only piece of luck was that he was the only hunter on the island. Wycliffe was with Blancfort in Paris, and the news might pry him away from the catacombs but Blancfort had called him for an infestation. The next closest was Von Bulow in Berlin and the rest were scattered in the Balkans and Eastern Europe. It was unlikely that he would be seen by anyone that mattered. Cavorting openly with a vampire was frowned on at best. He snorted with laughter, despite it all, the absurdity of what he was doing.

“What’s so funny,” Matthew asked. “Considering it’s likely my last night alive… or undead, however you want to term it, I wouldn’t mind a joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” Evelyn said easily, “it’s just that I was thinking how much trouble I’d be in if anyone found out that I aided a vampire. It’s against the rules.” He sighed. “We have so many rules. Did you know that?”

After a moment, Matthew nodded. “Mother allowed me to read Father’s journals. Not all of them, she didn’t want to break the rules either, but once I knew where she kept them, it was just a matter of waiting for her to go out.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m glad they chose to leave me out of it, to not raise me as a hunter.”

Evelyn rolled his eyes. “They used the rules to protect you. You’re the eldest son, your father’s heir. Hunter families are expected to have many children. With just you, the only way you would have been tapped is if you really wanted the life. But, you wouldn’t have been told until you turned thirteen, that’s a rule too, and your father died when you were ten. And forgive me, Matthew, but you, even now, don’t strike me as the type to clamor for the hunt.” He sighed. “Some people don’t know when they are lucky.”

“Like your brother, the heir who died?” Matthew asked.

Evelyn gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have with a blood drinker, but there was literally no one left in his life that could comprehend it. “I loved Jacob, because he was my brother and because until I turned thirteen, he loved me with no qualifiers. Then my father began to pay more attention to me, because while Jacob would have the estate and the title, I would be the hunter. My own father inherited unexpectedly, and he loved the hunt far for than the estate. Worse, he loved me far more than he loved Jacob, who favored my mother and Jacob in response… clamored for the hunt. And he destroyed himself and my mother and that destroyed my father.” He spared Matthew a glance. “I see this twisted situation, and I find it very difficult to trust you, because my mother trusted my brother the way your mother trusts you and my family died as a result.”

“Be assured,” Matthew said carefully, “the very last thing I want is for my family to die.” He pointed through the windshield. “We’re coming up on Clifford’s Tower. Stop here. We should talk out our plan before we get within his hearing.”

Evelyn parked the car. “I assume he’ll know that I’m with you.”

“I can smell him, so yes he can do likewise.” Matthew was clearly taking care to speak carefully. “He’ll know Mary isn’t here. That’s easily denied on our part, William himself took a month to turn. Do you mind being bait again?”

“Yes.” There was no reason to lie. “I mind a great deal but it’s the obvious way in. I have stakes, and tools. I’ve done this before but I usually use some stealth.”

“I don’t know that I’d call sneaking up on a vampire while it’s in a feeding frenzy stealthy.” Matthew offered.

“It works. Be glad it does because we’d be overrun if it didn’t.” Evelyn waited. “What idea do you have?”

“He thinks I only just escaped the grave, that I’m fresh to the world. He thinks he was saving me.” Matthew paused. “I have to kill him, we have to kill him to save Mary but… It just has to be said. He saved my life more than once during the war. We were mates, friends, despite the class differences.” He hesitated. “He didn’t ask for this, Evelyn. Neither did I, or Mary for that matter.”

“Then understand that this is mercy, Matthew.” Mercy for both of you, Evelyn added in his head. “If he was a good fellow in life then when and if he has moments of clarity, he must hate what he has become. Would the man you knew so much as speak crossly to a little girl? Let alone murder her? If you think I am without feeling on this, then be assured no I am not.” He hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to say to someone, something, he didn’t quite trust. “You are so unhappy, so sad, I don’t see how your mother or your wife don’t see it. If this fails for you, and I think it will, I will consider killing you a mercy to you.”

“How kind you are,” Matthew said dryly. “Perhaps you should consider getting down from that cross you’ve put yourself on?”

“I’m helping you!” Evelyn knew his voice was rising and for once he didn’t care. “I don’t pretend that we were close friends, but I liked you. I was happy for Mary, that she found whatever it was that she was looking for. You suited her, as much as I didn’t, and if I was jealous, it was only a little… because she loved you and because I was never much more than an afterthought to her. And then you died, and she grieved terribly, and I was still an afterthought.  Now, you’re back and her very soul has been put at risk, because of you. You’re different than William and Mary both, you know that, don’t you?”

“Because I’ve maintain control over myself,” Matthew said quietly. Then he shrugged, as if putting the thought away. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Either I am cured tonight, or you will kill me.”

“Or William will kill you,” Evelyn said. “Even though he’s mad as a hatter, vampires have a finely tuned sense of personal survival. Even if you were the stronger one in life, you must assume he can take you. Frankly, even though you’ve got your wits about you, once he realizes you’re against him, he’ll turn on you as easily as Mary did.” He considered his next piece of advice carefully. “You need to think of this like the war. It’s fine to feel sympathy for his situation but the second he realizes that you’re there to kill him, he will make it his mission to rip you limb from limb.”

Matthew gave him a surprisingly icy glare. “Evelyn, don’t you understand? If I fail tonight, my son grows up without his mother. He’s already fatherless. William was my friend, and I will kill him a thousand times over to save Mary.” Matthew’s cold expression didn’t falter. “If you don’t realize it, then understand now just _grateful_ I am to you. One thing I wrote to Mary, in the letter I left for her, is that she should damn well open her eyes and consider you.” He sniffed derisively. “I mean really, Tony Gillingham? I’ve only overheard their conversations and the man is a twit.” He seemed to shake off his irritation. “Regardless, you offered to help her and my mother with the best of intentions, and you’ve continued to help when your every instinct is telling you not to. I am grateful, Evelyn. I have no right to expect any mercy from you, you have every reason in this world to hate vampires and to destroy me. I would offer to shake your hand but I think it’s unwise considering what we’re about to do.”

“Agreed. And you’re welcome.” Evelyn smiled suddenly. “If nothing else, you’ve been an education, Matthew. I wish we’d been better friends in life.”

“Who knows?” Matthew said agreeably. “Perhaps my mother wasn’t wrong to hope.”

~*~

He had never been fond of hunting. As a man, it always seemed wasteful and unfair to shoot at harmless birds or chase a poor terrified fox to ground with horses and dogs. As a vampire, he hated the necessity, that some poor woodland creature or farm animal had to die to sate his need for blood. And he hated the idea of what he was about to. Evelyn could go on about it being mercy and Matthew had no intention of disagreeing, but William was a victim, just as he was. The poor man deserved a better hand than what he’d been given.

The plan was childishly simple. They were going to walk into Clifford’s Tower. Evelyn was going to pretend to be mesmerized, and Matthew was going to offer him as a gift. It would play to William’s vampire ego, to be thanked with a gift. If they were lucky, William would never realize they were there to kill him until the moment the stake went through his heart.

He could smell William long before they entered the tower. Evelyn winced and then covered it with a smooth, fearless mask. Matthew marveled again at how Evelyn Napier managed to be both a charming and mousy nobleman and also as cool a killer as Matthew had ever met. Some of that came from the war, Matthew knew it had changed him as much, but it was still surprising. Underneath the mousy exterior, Evelyn Napier wasn’t the lapdog people thought, he was a vicious wolfhound with the scent of prey filling his nostrils.

“William,” he called softly. “I know you’re here. I brought you a present. To thank you.”

“Where is Mary?” Matthew looked up and saw William up on one of the tower’s interior stair landings, looking down on him. He didn’t seem to have changed his clothes, which explained the ever-worsening smell and he seemed perturbed.

“Mary hasn’t turned yet,” Matthew lied. “Sometimes it takes a while. It will be a few more days and I didn’t want to miss our appointment and have you think me rude.”

William nodded. “You were always good to me, Matthew. You and Lady Mary both. You both were so kind to me…You understand I was honoring you with the gift? You were angry before.”

He’s had time to think about my reaction and is worried, Matthew realized. William was clever in life. It was the curse of the class system that William, who had been as smart as a whip, had been shunted off into a job as a servant and denied any opportunity to be more than a servant. The man had been bright enough to handle university. Had he survived the war, Matthew had planned to sponsor him for studies. But instead, Matthew mused, we’re here and I have to kill him even as he thanks me for my kindness. “I was angry,” he admitted, “because I thought you were taking me from my life, away from Mary who I love so dearly. Plus, I was in the grave for so long, all I could think about was my anger. I was too… fresh to the new life, to understand the gift you gave me. You were fair, I see that now. If you hadn’t come along, I would have died that night. I needed to think about it because I was angry at first but with Mary joining us, we can… have fun.”

“Where is Mary?” William asked again. He seemed oddly suspicious.

“My mother is tending her. Mother knows, and accepts what we are.” He managed a laugh. “She much prefers it to the idea that I am dead and gone.”

“You’ll need to send her away,” William warned. “I like Mrs. Crawley and I understand why you resisted taking her. I couldn’t touch my father no matter how hungry I was, but if you don’t want her turned or killed then you need to send her away. The blood lust can be difficult to control.”

“Of course,” Matthew agreed. “You have much to teach me, I can see that.” He gestured to Evelyn, who was doing a very good job of staring blankly, his mouth open and slack as through he was barely conscious. “I found Mr. Napier sniffing around one of your meals… I thought I’d bring him to you. As a gift.”

William smiled. “Bring him up to the parapet. We can share him, I think.” He chuckled. “You need to show a little more finesse with the mesmerizing. He looks like you blew his brains out, like he’s got the shellshock. Like Peterson, remember how he lost it?”

“Stupid fool, Peterson,” Matthew agreed. He looked at Evelyn. “Go on then. Up the stairs to William.” He was impressed that Evelyn didn’t flinch.

~*~

It was bold beyond belief, which made Evelyn nervous. He had agreed with Matthew’s plan but he wondered as he shambled up the stone stairs to the parapet if he wasn’t being a complete fool. Vampire lords were charmers and he was quite certain Matthew Crawley fit the description. No, he told himself as the stench from William’s disgusting clothes filled his nostrils, Matthew was devastated by Mary’s condition. Too devastated and there had been too many opportunities in the last few days for Matthew to feed on him. There was no need for a convoluted set up. He put his dark thoughts aside and considered the kill. He had stakes hidden in his jacket and so did Matthew. If the plan went perfectly, Matthew would stake William as William moved to bite him. And so far, the plan was working brilliantly. William seemed to fall for all of Matthew’s blandishments to his ego and Matthew was being friendly, reminiscing about the war and talking about how grateful he was. It was almost happening too perfectly, and then Matthew broke the spell as William turned towards Evelyn.

“I am sorry, William,” Matthew said quietly. He withdrew the stake from his jacket and raised it.

William stopped. Evelyn could see the sly look of vampire cunning cross William’s face. “Why… why are you sorry, Matthew?”

Matthew realized his mistake at once. “I… “

William spun around, suddenly enraged. “You bastard! This is a trick, isn’t it? You’re still mad!” He kicked Matthew squarely in the chest, slamming him into the tower wall. Then he dove at the man’s throat, trying to strangle him as if he could still choke the life out of him.

Evelyn saw his chance. It was harder to stake a vampire from behind, but he’d done it before. He took out one, and then a second. Then he slammed the first stake into William’s back. The creature shrieked in rage and spun around to face him, it’s face screwed into a demonic countenance that only vaguely resembled the gentle boy it had once been.

“You!” it shrieked. “You’re not under a spell!”

“No,” Evelyn stabbed William in the ribs with a practiced skill. He saw the creature’s eyes dull as the stake hit its mark. “I give you peace, William.”

It snarled at him even as it began to disintegrate. In one swift move, it grabbed Matthew and tossed him off the parapet edge to the tower floor twenty feet below. Then it shrieked one last time and crumbled into a heap of dust and bones. Evelyn let out the breath he’d been holding and picked the stakes. I pray this works for Mary, he thought, and now is the difficult task. He looked down at the tower floor. Matthew’s body was face down. “Matthew?”

There was no reaction. He could be shamming, Evelyn warned himself as he trotted down the stone stairs, but one of the few things that could rattle a vampire was a hard knock to the head. All the better if Matthew had been knocked unconscious, he thought, an added piece of luck to an already good hunt. He cautiously approached Matthew’s prone form. “Matthew?”

There was no response but a slow groan. Genuine luck, Evelyn thought again, he’s knocked himself senseless. He gripped the stake in one hand as he rolled Matthew over with the other. There was blood trickling down his face and his arm hung at an odd angle. Matthew was beginning to blink and groan more so Evelyn held the stake firmly and prepared to make the final thrust.

And then stopped himself. He had promised Isobel Crawley that he would give Matthew a chance and it had been a long time since anyone had truly known his soul the way she had done. Worse, something was bothering him. It wasn’t unheard of for vampires to knock each other out but William just tossed Matthew off the parapet at the moment of his death. It wasn’t a hard fall for a vampire yet Matthew was unconscious, with a broken arm and blood pooling on the ground from the gash on his forehead. As he watched the blood oozed down Matthew’s face, Matthew began to cough.

Vampires don’t bleed, Evelyn thought wildly. They don’t bleed and they don’t breathe, and they certainly don’t cough from breathing in all the dust. When Matthew fell, he was already back among the living. “Oh dear god, this insane plan worked! Matthew, you’re alive!”

Matthew opened his eyes and groaned loudly. “I hurt everywhere…. “

“Yes, living hurts.” Evelyn laughed and even Matthew managed a chuckle. He helped Matthew up, careful to keep a firm hold on the man. “I can’t take you to the hospital here, you’re still a dead man. Your mother was a nurse, it’s only a few miles back… You can’t be found here, Matthew.”

And how do we explain this, Evelyn wondered as he dragged Matthew out of the tower and back to the car. Then he chuckled again. Why should I care, he thought cheerfully, I’ve done my part. Now I can sit back and watch the fireworks.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11 - The Beginning of Recovery

Isobel jumped when she heard the car roll up to the cottage. She had stayed up, not wanting to sleep on the night that might break the curse or worse, take her son away from her forever. Please, she prayed as she ran to the window, please let this work, let this save them both. One fear that had chased her all even was the idea that Mary would survive, would change back, only to realize that Matthew had sacrificed himself for her. Mary was a strong woman, but Isobel suspected she wouldn’t be able to bear such knowledge. When she peered through the curtains, she felt a wave of relief as she realized there were two men in the Reliant.

The fear rose up again as Evelyn jumped out of the driver’s seat and rushed around to open the passenger door, clearly dragging Matthew out of the car. She ran out the door to help. In the moonlight, she could see that Matthew was bleeding from his head and holding his left arm oddly. “Matthew, oh thank God you’re alive!”

“My arm hurts...” he grumbled, his words slurred. He shook off Evelyn’s hands and grabbed her with his good hand, clearly unsteady and stunned. She could see blood trickling down his face “Mother, I don’t want to play with Evelyn anymore. He’s too rough…”

Evelyn, to give him credit, choked back a laugh. “I’m bringing you back a whiny little crybaby, Mrs. Crawley. Apparently, someone has gotten a little spoiled with being a vampire. At one point he was complaining the very air he is breathing hurts.”

“It _does_ hurt, Evelyn. Mother, he’s been so unkind.” Matthew protested softly. He also gripped her like he could barely stand. “It’s like burning in my chest… and everything is so muffled…” He swayed visibly and Evelyn swiftly took ahold of his good arm. Matthew shook his head and then winced. “Why is everything so swirly? Why doesn’t anything seem right?”

“Because you’re in shock,” Isobel said as she helped Evelyn drag him into the cottage. “I forgot to warn you that… it can be physically uncomfortable. You’ll feel better in a little while.” She remembered feeling tired and finding it disconcerting to have some senses like hearing and vision almost disappear while taste and physical feeling roared back. It hadn’t occurred to her that Matthew would be nearly incapacitated by the sensations of life returning. They got him into the small bedroom on the first floor and she grew more concerned. His head was trickling blood from a gash just inside his hairline and left arm hung oddly, as though he had dislocated it. “Evelyn, what did you do to him?”

Evelyn rolled his eyes at her. “Well, let’s see. I didn’t kill him. I let him use me as bait. When he made the mistake of apologizing to the vampire that turned him, I was the one who had to kill the poor bastard.” He seemed to realize that she wasn’t finding his sarcasm amusing and crossed his arms. “We were in the tower, on a ledge. Mason shoved him off and he fell about thirty feet.”

“It hurt a great deal,” Matthew added, his voice earnest even as his eyes started to droop shut. “Evelyn said you would fix it, Mother. He said…”

She gave Evelyn a dark look. He rolled his eyes again. “What,” Evelyn said after a moment, “you said you were a nurse. And I could hardly take him to hospital, now could I?” Then his expression softened. “His arm looks dislocated, not broken like I first thought. I put a few arms back to rights during the war. I assume you’ve done it as well. We should do it now.”

“While he’s muddled and doesn’t see it coming,” Isobel agreed. If she read the situation correctly, if she remembered her own reawakening to humanity accurately, Matthew was only conscious because of the pain in his dislocated arm. Once the pain was removed, he was likely to sleep for hours if not the entire next day. A worry, with the head injury but there was precious little that could be done, even if they did take Matthew to the hospital. Evelyn took up position behind Matthew and braced himself, and Isobel mentally braced herself. It has to be done, she told herself, he’s in pain and it won’t stop until you set it to rights. “Matthew,” she said softly, “I want you to count to five.” She caught Evelyn’s eyes and he nodded at her three held up fingers.

“One,” Matthew said, unsuspecting. “Two, three…” She yanked his arm while Evelyn pulled back and the dislocated joint went back into place. Matthew yelped and grimaced and then tentatively moved his arm. “That hurt… but it’s better now… But why is everything moving?”

She sighed in relief. “There’s a doctor’s bag in the living room, Evelyn. Please fetch it for me so I can stitch up this nasty gash, and perhaps you could check on Mary?”

“Will she be as entertaining?” Evelyn smirked.

“She’ll probably be quite embarrassed,” Isobel noted. Looking at Matthew’s glazed eyes, she doubted that he’d remember very much about the evening, and considering how unpleasant Mary’s shrieking had been earlier, she hoped the same would be true for her. “I don’t think I need to tell you to be careful.”

If it worked for Matthew, then it worked for Mary, she had to assume that, but as Evelyn straightened up and steeled himself, she knew he’d be cautious. Poor fellow, she thought not for the first time. When we’re past the worst of it, she promised herself as she began tending Matthew’s bleeding forehead, I will find the time to set poor Evelyn to rights. He’s too nice a fellow to be all alone.

~*~

Mary realized she had fallen asleep on the floor when she felt someone place a blanket on top of her. She pulled it around herself and sat up, realizing as he smirked at her that it was Evelyn Napier who had found her lying naked on the floor.

“Should I ask why every stitch of clothes you were wearing is literally in shreds all around the room?” He cocked his head, clearly amused.

“Never mind that, is Matthew all right?” She already felt the relief washing over her. Evelyn Napier wasn’t the man she thought she knew, but he wasn’t such a cold monster that he’d be jovially smirking at her upon returning from their mission if Matthew was dead. Still, she needed him to say it.

“To listen to him, being alive a hideous torment but yes, Mary, he’s all right. A bit worse for wear but,” and he seemed to consider it carefully, “that might work to his advantage, all things considered.”

“I must go to him,” Mary said as she rose to her feet, wrapping the blanket carefully around herself. The room spun and she wobbled. Before she could take a step, Evelyn grabbed her by the arm and steered her to the bed.

“Sit down, Mary,” Evelyn said, his tone gentle. “Matthew will be fine, and you’re still unsteady. Let Mrs. Crawley set Matthew to rights and get him a little more presentable.” After a moment, he smiled brightly at her and gestured to the chains on the floor. “Do tell me how you got out of the chains?”

His genuine curiosity struck her, as did his words about allowing Isobel to help Matthew. She gripped the blanket around herself. “I… used the wires inside my corset to pick the locks open.” She thought anyway. She had been in a sort of frenzied blur of rage, screaming obscenities at the people she knew were only trying to help her. “Evelyn, I am so sorry for what I said to you…”

Evelyn chuckled. “Oh Mary, I accept your apology gladly and I took no offense. This may shock… or perhaps not, but I’ve been called worst.” He chuckled again. “Using the wire in your corsets… that’s far cleverer than I expected from a female vampire. You went quite mad, you know.”

She nodded. “There are things I know I did… and things I’m not so sure of… there were sheep and….” She found herself blushing at the memory of what happened after she feasted on the blood of the sheep.

“And then you and Matthew had a conjugal visit in the field that I suspect was a long time in coming,” Evelyn added. “It’s lucky this place is isolated. It was like there was a glittering sun in that field making wild animal noises.”

“Oh my god… Why are we talking about this?” Mary covered her face with her hands, embarrassed beyond belief.

“Because you can often be unkind, Mary,” Evelyn said, his tone still amused but more serious. “I don’t mind being called a limp dick queer by a vampire, I know the vampire is mad. I know what Matthew did with you was entirely to trick you into submission, and it worked. Right now, you’re too embarrassed to resent it, but I think I know you well enough to know it will cross your mind to be angry that Matthew tricked you. That’s why we need to talk before you go see him. You need to know the truth.”

“I would never be angry with Matthew,” Mary protested, but even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. The truth was that she had many reasons to be angry with Matthew. He had kept her from knowing his true status for years, she knew it wasn’t entirely Isobel, and she was already convinced that things would have moved much more quickly if she had known he wasn’t entirely dead. And as much as she understood she would have been useless and even treacherous on the hunt for William, there was a bitter ball of rage that she’d been tricked so easily by Matthew. “What… is the truth?”

“He planned to die tonight, Mary.” Evelyn took her hand and held it. “He was going to die for you, to save you. The cure… in the past it has only worked on women, and then on women who were only briefly turned. The plan was that once Mason was killed, I would kill Matthew.” He hesitated. “I almost did. I was seconds from killing him. He was knocked out from the fall. I thought I’d gotten lucky, because frankly I was afraid he was going to turn on me, because vampires always turn on the innocent. The only reason your husband didn’t die tonight is because I saw blood on his forehead and realized he had to be alive in order to bleed. And Matthew knew it, Mary. He knew what my plan was, we discussed it. He loved you enough to die for you. So, when that anger wells up, and it will because I know you better than you might realize, remember that this night, he intended to sacrifice everything for you. Everything he has done has been for you.” Evelyn gripped her hand reassuringly. “You’re getting a second chance, Mary. You both are. And frankly, Matthew doesn’t seem the sort to drag this all up in a fight and throw it in your face. In fact, he can’t, without admitting he was the reason that raising livestock in the vicinity of Downton has been so unprofitable.”

“They should have told me sooner,” Mary said. She gripped Evelyn’s hand, thankful for his support. “Let me say it now, so I can get it out and be done with it, so I don’t let it fester. Isobel should have told me, I should have known Matthew was… undead.  Part of why we were apart for so long was that the two of them couldn’t effectively investigate York because they didn’t have a car.  This could have ended years ago.”

“Possibly,” Evelyn agreed, “but frankly Mary, the much more likely event is that your son would be an orphan and at a much younger age. Seriously consider just how poorly this went. If I hadn’t been around… say you drowned me in the tub the way you had planned, or if I had gone to France the way I had planned. Mrs. Crawley was a good hunter in her younger days, I won’t deny that, but while she seems quite fit, she’s a grandmother. You aren’t trained at all, and neither is Matthew and while he’s a brave man, even as a vampire he’s probably too kind a soul for the work of hunting. And none of us can turn back time. I’m glad you said it, because you needed to. In a perfect world, you’re right, they should have told you… and in a perfect world none of this would have happened. You’re getting him back… you love him, even when you thought he was gone. That’s why I never pressed you. Remind yourself, when that anger rises up inside you in the next few years, that you have received a miracle and that your husband was willing to die to see you safe. Promise me that, Mary.”

She was genuinely overwhelmed by his concern, and she squeezed his hand affectionately. “I promise, Evelyn, and I promise to cherish the friendship I have with you. The truth is that I always seemed to dismiss you and I realize now there’s more to you than what’s on the surface and I regret that. Perhaps, now that this is over, we can become better friends again?”

“Well, I would like that,” Evelyn said, smiling. “After all, you decided to not drown me in the tub. That means we’re friends, I think.”

“In fairness,” Mary admitted, letting herself smile as well, “It was actually Matthew who convinced us to drown you like a kitten.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Then I shall strive to kinder to him over his current state.” He waved his hand at her concerned look. “It looks worse than it is. He’ll mend and you two will need to decide what you will do next.”

“We’ll go home,” Mary said easily, although the daunting task rose up in her mind. Matthew had died, had been buried… Never mind, she told herself, that didn’t matter.  Whatever the future was, she would have Matthew with her. “We will… have to figure things out, but it will happen. I should go to him.” She started to rise and remembered the basic problem, that she was wearing nothing but a blanket. “Evelyn… would you be so kind as to find some of my other clothes?”

“Of course.” He had, she realized, discreetly kept his eyes away from her body, but now was gesturing to the shreds of her prior outfit littered on the floor. “So, I understand why the corset was torn up… what happened to the rest of your clothes?” He eyed her quizzically. “I’ve never been able to ask a vampire what they were thinking, you know…”

‘Oh…” She hugged the blanket around herself. “I was very angry and I thought… I should make a rope. To strangle Isobel with.” It had made perfect sense at the time.  “And then I was just… ripping things up and throwing the bits at the door, to break it down with the strength of my magical powers.” She shivered at the thought. “I imagine it’s probably best that I didn’t gain any magical powers. Lucky for my mother in law in any case. I seem to recall screaming my every base thought about Isobel through the door.”

“She is already past it, I suspect,” Evelyn said. He left and returned with an armful of her clothes and she dressed quickly while Evelyn waited outside. She paused only for a moment to put her hair into some semblance of order, Matthew was unlikely to care but he was her husband, she didn’t want to go to him looking a complete fright. Then she followed Evelyn to the small bedroom that Isobel and Matthew were in.

Matthew was lying on the bed, his eyes closed and the right side of his head bandaged, while Isobel was fussing with an old doctor’s bag and its contents. He was still in the clothes he’d left in and she could see that they were spattered with blood. In seconds, she was at his side. “Is he all right? Why isn’t he conscious?” Although as she spoke, his eyes began to flutter.

“He should be all right, Mary,” Isobel said. Mary picked up on the obvious. Isobel was worried but wasn’t overwhelmed or putting on a brave face. Matthew was all right. Hurt but alive, and not so hurt that his mother was panicked. Mary felt almost dizzy with relief as she took his hand in hers. Isobel smiled warmly. “He’s badly shocked right now… I didn’t think to warn him that his senses would bear the brunt of the change… He’ll need some time to adapt, I suspect”

Mary wondered at that but pushed it out of her thoughts as Matthew’s eyes fluttered more. “Matthew, wake up darling! You’re alive! Please wake up…” She almost gasped when his eyes opened. It wasn’t as though his eyes had changed in any real sense, they were the same brilliant blue but… She hadn’t realized how cold and flinty his eyes had been when he had been undead. She had been too overcome at the idea of even seeing him again to nitpick over his pale, almost ghostly complexion, or that his eyes were often closer to grey than blue in his vampire state. Now though, as actual life sparkled in them, she realized how dull and filled with despair they had been, and how beautifully alive they were now.

“Mary…” he said haltingly, “Are you really there? Free of the curse?” He waited a moment. “If you’re free, then kiss me.”

“Yes, yes of course, Matthew.” She leaned in and kissed him, not quite chaste, but mindful of both his injury and his mother. “Does that help?”

He sighed, and smiled as he closed his eyes. “It’s the only thing that hasn’t hurt.”


End file.
